


i wanna grow up (from the rhythm a young, from the rhythm of a younger heart)

by ladystark



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 13 Going On 30 Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 16:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladystark/pseuds/ladystark
Summary: Mark goes to bed the night the site goes live, dreaming about everything that it could potentially become. When he wakes up, he's thirty and on top of the world after everything he could have hoped for has come true.All that's missing is Eduardo.





	i wanna grow up (from the rhythm a young, from the rhythm of a younger heart)

**Author's Note:**

> happy anniversary! here is a long overdue fic that i promised a million years ago, but i'm delivering it right on time for tsn day, so i think i can be forgiven. this is a vague 13 going on 30 au, in which some plot points and scenes are kept and other major ones are changed just for the sake of the social network universe.  
title is from like a river runs by bleachers.  
if you are reading this because you think it's fun to read fanfiction gay people wrote about you, please do something meaningful with your countless money instead.

Early in the morning the day after thefacebook went live, Mark finds himself leaving a bar near campus. After the site’s initial launch, Eduardo had forced him into bed to get some “much needed rest” (Eduardo’s words, not his), going so far as to make sure Mark was physically in bed before disappearing to his next class. Despite Eduardo’s best efforts, Mark had been awoken less than two hours later by Dustin crashing into the suite, yelling about how a bunch of people in his economics class had already signed up. Chris had returned not long after, commenting on how Mark should probably get something in The Crimson and that he’d be willing to arrange an interview, or at the very least a blurb about the site. By the time Eduardo had slipped through the door that evening, they were all too hyped up to consider anything except going out for celebratory drinks.

Eduardo, unsurprisingly, ends up buying most of the rounds. He’d promised Mark as much earlier, but he’s also always willing to do just about anything to make them happy, even if that just means supplying them with alcohol. Despite this, he’s the most sober of them all; Eduardo tends to get either sad or promiscuous when properly drunk, but right now he’s just at that stage where his smile is even brighter and all the tension in his shoulders seems to have disappeared.

They’re stumbling back out into the night now, though, and Mark’s wrapped up in Eduardo’s North Face jacket, because he’d insisted earlier that Mark would get cold and shoved it into his arms unprompted. He’d rolled his eyes at the time, but he’d taken it to shut Eduardo up, and even though he still thinks he would’ve been fine in his shirt and hoodie, he likes how comfortable the jacket makes him feel.

It’d usually be too early for them to head back, but Chris has a morning class, and Mark likes beer but not enough to deal with bad live music and sweaty freshmen shoving past him when he’s barely slept in weeks, which is why they’re making the walk back to Kirkland on a night that is far too cold for February. Besides--

“I want to see how the site’s doing,” he says, even as he stumbles on his feet and Eduardo has to grip his arm. Thefacebook has been his main focus all night, even throughout all the drinks, and he wonders why he agreed to come out with the others in the first place when he’d rather be drinking beer in his room and watching the membership number go up.

“It’s going fine,” Eduardo reassures him, leaning in close. “I heard some kids talking about it when I was getting drinks. I told you that it was a great idea.”

Mark thinks back to Caribbean night, all those months ago, and feels proud of how far the site’s come since then, what he’s managed to build. It’s been less than a day and it’s already bigger and better than anything the Winklevoss twins could have created, and part of it is because of Eduardo’s faith and support. Only a _ small _part, because Mark knows he’s smart and would have figured out a way to do this without him, but he’s glad he didn’t have to. 

“Well, obviously, I created it because I knew people would talk about it, but I need to physically see it,” he replies bluntly, and he wants to continue to tell them all the grand plans he has for the future of the site and how they can contribute, but he’s interrupted by Dustin suddenly letting out a cheer.

Mark turns and frowns at him, watching as Dustin pulls a bright red packet out of the pocket of his jeans, shaking it between his thumb and forefinger. Dustin is loud and chaotic most of the time anyway, and Mark is wary of anything he’s enthusiastic about when drunk.

“Look what I found!” he announces, and his face falls for all of two seconds when they just give him blank stares in return, as if he expected them to be able to identify red packets filled with _ something _on sight.

“It’s wishing dust,” Dustin explains after a moment, tearing open the packet as his grin returns “Sprinkle some over you, and whatever you wish for will come true.” 

Chris laughs, because the only time he ever encourages Dustin’s ridiculous attitude is when he’s too drunk to know better. Mark, however, remains unimpressed with his stupidity, and once again yearned to be back in his room working on the site. 

“That’s a cheap trick for children,” Mark says dryly, trying to ignore that Eduardo is close enough for Mark to hear him laugh under his breath. “It’s just. Glitter.”

“No shit,” Chris comments, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s still sniggering. “You really think he found actual wishing dust?”

“You’re all boring. Come on!” Dustin yells, “One of you has to have _ something _ you’d wish for. Chris? Wardo? Whatever you want most in the world could be _ yours _. Your heart’s desire, your deepest longing, your greatest— ”

“Can I wish for you to shut up?” Chris asks.

Mark snorts, and turns to face Eduardo so they can mock Dustin together, but Eduardo seems distracted. He’s staring down at Mark with a hint of red on his face, and he pulls away from Mark once they make eye contact, nearly knocking him down.

Much to his displeasure, Dustin catches him, and with one look at his grin, Mark knows what he’s going to do. He tries to pull away from Dustin, but he’s still too drunk to stand properly or shove him off, and Dustin’s pretty determined when he puts his mind to being the bane of Mark’s existence.

Dustin loops an arm around his waist and spins them around while he shakes the glitter over their heads. He’s singing something about dreams and wishes that could be from some Disney movie, but Mark can’t really hear him.

“Now make a wish, Mark,” Dustin tells him in what he probably thinks is a whisper but is much louder than his usual voice, “Let your deepest desires come true.” 

Chris is still laughing, because he’s a horrible, filthy, traitor, and Eduardo has gone strangely silent.

“You’re a child,” Mark tells him, shoving Dustin off. He’s still barely able to stand on his own two feet, but he’d rather collapse on the sidewalk than put up with Dustin’s antics.

“And you’re a grumpy old man,” Dustin replies with a grin.

“Okay,” Eduardo says, speaking suddenly and linking his arm with Mark’s again. “That’s enough fun for tonight. I think I’m going to get him back to Kirkland before heading home.”

“Why does Mark get a gentleman suitor and we don’t?” Dustin whines, which sets Chris off into another fit of laughter.

“Wish for it,” Mark snaps, as he allows Eduardo to tug him anyway. Eduardo giggles at the comment, and Mark would make fun of him for it if he didn’t find it endearing, and he’d deny finding it endearing if he wasn’t drunk.

“Be careful what you wish for!” Chris calls out to their retreating backs, and Mark decides that if he believed in a cheap child’s toy the way Dustin seems to, he’d wish for better friends.

The trip back to Kirkland is strangely quiet. Mark’s too busy trying to shake glitter out of his hair to make much conversation, but Eduardo is usually happy to talk to him, even when he only gets one word answers in response. This time though, he stays silent up until they’re stumbling through the doors of the suite.

“Come on,” Eduardo tells him quietly, keeping a hand on Mark’s lower back as he leads him towards his room “You haven’t slept properly in weeks." 

Mark ignores him and goes to sit at his desk, but Eduardo gently pushes him towards his bed. 

“Tomorrow,” he says, “You need some rest.”

Mark wants to argue, wants to log on and see how the site is doing, wants to code until he’s sobered up a bit, wants to stay up late and discuss all the visions he has for thefacebook, but his lack of sleep is catching up to him, and he’s too tired to fight Eduardo’s gentle hands. He kicks off his flip flops as he collapses onto the bed, Eduardo lingering behind him as he head hits the pillow.

The glitter that Dustin threw on him is still in his hair and on his clothes, despite his best efforts, and he makes a note to get him back for it when he’s awake and sober. Eduardo’s jacket is also still wrapped around him, but that’s less of a problem - more of a comfort really, even if there’s glitter dusting the shoulders of it. 

“Get some rest, Mark,” Eduardo tells him again, tugging the sheets over him with a small smile. 

He watches as Eduardo pauses at the door to his room, biting his lip. Mark wants to ask him to stay, to sleep in his bed with him like he has before, but he’s too drunk and too tired to think up a reasonable excuse to ask him. All the times they shared a bed in the past was an accident, with Mark crawling in next to Eduardo who had crashed after a study session. He doesn’t know how to bring it up now.

“What did you wish for?” Eduardo asks suddenly, soft enough that Mark isn’t sure if he was meant to hear it in the first place.

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“If you could make a wish though,” Eduardo presses, his voice straining slightly, “Have whatever you wanted the most in the world. What would it be?”

Mark shrugs as best he can, given that he’s lying down and under the sheets. “For thefacebook to be successful.” Because while Mark doesn’t believe in magic, let alone Dustin’s glitter that he must have gotten for about one dollar at a toy store, he knows what he’d wish for if he had the chance.

Eduardo doesn’t say anything else, just stands there for a few seconds in silence. Then, he exits Mark’s room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Mark in the darkness.

He closes his eyes, and his only thoughts before he falls asleep are about the future of thefacebook, and everything he wants to, _ wishes _ to, achieve with it in the next five, _ ten _, fifteen years.

* * *

A loud blaring wakes him, and he can feel sunlight warming up his body as he comes to. Mark blinks his eyes open slowly, clutching the bedsheets in his fist as he slowly comes to. He feels exhausted, which isn’t a surprise given his state of life the past few weeks. As his mind slowly takes in his surroundings, his body argues for an extra few hours in bed. He’s not meant to be in the CS Lab until that afternoon, and it’s not like he actually gives a shit about his 10am Postwar and Contemporary Art class. 

He’s started planning a day of sleeping and coding when his brain finally registers the room. A room that is far too bright and far too big to be his room at Kirkland - it’s a room he doesn’t recognise at all. 

He falls out of bed in shock, wincing when he hits the floor with a thud. He grabs at the carpet, trying to make sense of the situation. Eduardo put him to bed last night, but it’s not totally out of the realm of possibility that Dustin dragged him out of bed and to another party later, and he just got so drunk he forgot about it. The bedroom seems far too nice for the scene of a college party, but it’s a more likely scenario than someone kidnapping him or Harvard upgrading their suite in the middle of the night.

He slowly sits up, glancing around and trying to find _ something _he recognises. The loud blaring isn’t making anything easier, and he grabs for the black rectangle it’s coming from, switching it off. The sudden silence is welcome, but the situation isn’t any clearer. He uses the bed to pull himself to a standing position, and wonders how long it will be before someone finds him in here. He needs answers or at least an idea of where to go before that happens, and he makes note of two doors on opposite sides of the room.

He makes his way over to one of them, and pushes it open to find a bathroom instead of an exit. He groans and turns to leave to try the other one, and then catches sight of himself in the mirror.

He pauses, squinting at his reflection in confusion. He looks _ different. _ Mark knows he’s never been the best at caring for himself or his appearance. He doesn’t wash his hair or face as often as he should, he sleeps maybe 4 hours a night, and he’d live off beer and red vines if Eduardo, Chris and his mother didn’t hassle him about vegetables. And that’s on a good week. As exciting as building thefacebook has been, it also means he hasn’t had a good week in about three months.

Still, there’s something off about his appearance. He looks older than he was last night, and he notices that he’s not wearing the North Face jacket Eduardo had insisted he wear that Mark remembers falling asleep in. This and the unfamiliar surroundings are enough cause for Mark to decide that this situation isn’t good, and he should probably turn his attention back to getting the hell out of here.

“Shit,” he mumbles, stumbling out of the bathroom with no clear plan besides leaving and getting in touch with someone he knows. He tugs on a pair of discarded shorts and a hoodie near the bed, pulling them over his boxers and the shirt he woke up in. He grabs the black rectangle – which he thinks is some kind of mobile device – again, and figures he can deal with the repercussions of stealing it once he uses it to get back to his room at Kirkland.

He manages to get out of the room down the stairs without running into anyone, and thinks it should be easy enough to make his way back to the dorm before anyone notices - if he’s still anywhere near Harvard, at least.

He freezes just before he steps onto the first floor landing. There’s a guy with curly hair and a blazer walking in circles around the kitchen, talking animatedly into a device pressed to his ear. Mark stumbles backwards, wondering whose house he woke up in. Or if this guy is just a home intruder and his possible kidnapper.

If he is, he seems incredibly laidback for the situation. He grins when he sees Mark, telling whoever it is on the other side of the line: “Listen, I’ll call you back.”

“How did you get in here?” He blurts out, even though he has no idea whose house this is. For all Mark knows, this is the stranger’s house, though he doubts it based on the way he lets out a loud laugh in response.

“You gave me a key and told me your passcode, remember? Said I was welcome anytime, as long as I didn’t bring any girls or drugs with me. Which I still think are two killjoy rules, but I’ll respect my buddy.”

Mark blinks a few times, wondering if he’s understanding him. If this strange guy is to be believed, about the key and the code and the house rules, then this is _ Mark’s _place. Which makes zero sense. He can barely afford ramen and beer, let alone a nice fancy house that requires a passcode to enter.

“What did you just say?” He asks, wondering if this is some elaborate prank. “I don’t even know who you are.”

The guy grins at him easily. “Big night, hey? That’s what I’m talking about." 

He walks over to him, and doesn’t even notice Mark flinching when he claps him on the shoulder.

“I’m Sean, you’re Mark, and we have to be at the office in about,” he glances at his watch and raises an eyebrow, “Fifteen minutes.”

Despite appearances that the two of them seem to be friendly, Mark’s confusion with the entire situation is growing by the second. “What offices?” 

Sean frowns down at him for several seconds, before bursting into laughter. “Shit, Mark. You must have gotten hammered last night. And all by yourself!”

Mark has no idea how Sean knows him or why he thinks Mark’s memory loss is amusing, but he feels himself growing more irritated every time he opens his mouth. He wants answers and a solution, and this guy is being absolutely no help.

“_ The _ offices,” Sean tells him slowly, as if he thinks that’s the only way Mark can process this. “Remember, the company you invented? The place where you’re CEO, _ bitch _?”

Mark continues to stare at him blankly, and he lets out a low whistle. “Shit, I’m hoping the interns have some of that hangover cure in the fridge. You sound like you need it.”

Mark goes to snap at this guy, inform him that _ no, _he has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about, that he’s a nineteen year old Harvard student, and the last thing he wants to do is go to the offices and drink some suspicious sounding hangover cure. But he’s gone off before Mark can even open his mouth, making his way over to the front door and throwing it open.

He glances back at Mark with a grin, “Come on. You can tell me all about your big night on the way there.” Mark considers ignoring him and staying here, given how useless the guy’s been and how weird the situation is overall. But Sean seems to know him and seems to have an idea of where to go, and he might be Mark’s only ally until he can find a way to contact Eduardo or his family. If worse comes to worst, he’ll barrel roll out of the car and try to use the rectangle to call for help.

He follows Sean outside, through the front yard and out the gates to where a town car is waiting. Mark thinks back to when he was little and his mother told him never to get into cars with strangers, but he’s too confused and too tired to do anything else. He sits pressed against the window as Sean sits on the other side of the backseat.

The driver pulls away just as Sean’s phone starts ringing – it looks like the black rectangle Mark had pocketed earlier, which confirms his suspicions – and he answers it while Mark fumbles with his seat belt.

Mark’s only half listening to Sean’s conversation, looking out the window to try and figure out where they are. It looks nothing like Boston, or New York for that matter, and it’s far too sunny to be February. None of the streets looks familiar to him, and Mark begins to think there’s some validity in the kidnapping theory, even if it doesn’t explain why he looks so much older.

He wonders if he should have stayed back at the house and listened to his mother’s warnings, but Sean isn’t treating him like a kidnap victim at all. He doesn’t seem like the type that could successfully pull something off like that anyway, but Mark tunes into his phone conversation just in case he reveals something incriminating or helpful.

“Who gives a shit about that stuff now? It’s 2014, I can’t wait around for people that are perpetually stuck in 2007,” Sean snaps, and Mark has to bite his lip from demanding what the fuck he’s on about. There’s no way it could be 2014, even if that would explain the changes to his appearance. It’s impossible. Mark clenches his hand into a fist, and is glad that Sean seems too busy rolling his eyes at the person on the phone to notice anything. 

“Look, just tell him Sean Parker called—”

“Sean Parker from Napster?” Mark asks, before he can stop himself, concern about the year wiped in an instant. He feels himself flushing with embarrassment when_ Sean Parker _ turns to look at him.

“Hold on, I have to deal with some shit,” he says as he hangs up, staring at Mark.

Sean frowns, leaning over to grip Mark’s shoulder. Mark squirms slightly – he doesn’t like being touched by anyone, especially in such weird circumstances, but this is _ Sean Parker, _so he tries not to fight it too much.

“Seriously, dude, are you alright? You’re acting like you’re on something – which, if you are, do share – but it’s freaking me out.”

“I’m not on anything,” Mark replies, rubbing at his eyes as Sean’s hand drops from his shoulders, “I’m just...missing something.”

Like the last ten years of his life.

Rationally, Mark knows that this is impossible. That there’s no way he went to bed at Harvard in 2004 and woke up in a fancy house in 2014 with Sean Parker as a friend. That’s the stuff of shitty movies. But it _ fits. _The house, the differences in his face, the shiny devices too fancy for his time, these supposed offices and Sean’s general presence - there’s no way any of that could exist in his life at college. Mark doesn’t know how or why he got here or how it’s even possible, but it seems to be the only explanation.

“You gonna be good for the meeting?” Sean asks, "Because I gotta tell you, if the CEO of Facebook--"

"_the_facebook," Mark corrects, and Sean blinks at him.

"Are you serious? We dropped the _the, _like, ten years ago."

Now it's Mark's turn to blink, but Sean doesn't seem to be lying, and Mark doesn't know what he'd get out of that anyway. They dropped the _the. _It's been years, it's cleaner, it fits better--sure. They dropped the the.

He just nods in response, but Sean is still staring at him intently.

"Mark, _can _you do this? If you can't, just let me know buddy. I'll figure something out."

“I’ll be fine,” he lies, because he can’t tell the truth. He’s not entirely sure what the truth _ is, _ even if he’s slowly starting to accept the whole ‘ten years in the future’ scenario.

“It’s okay,” Sean shrugs, “Natalie usually takes notes in meetings for you anyway. As long as you’re there and look like you’re at least paying some attention, people won’t notice anything different. Give you some time to remember what it is you lost.”

Mark rolls his eyes before he can stop himself, but he can’t really tell Sean Parker that he was nineteen years old last night and he doubts he’ll be able to remember the last decade of his life over the course of one meeting. He doesn’t want to be accused of being on drugs again, and for once, he doesn’t want to be seen as weird.

If Sean notices the eyeroll, he doesn’t comment, just leans back against his seat.

The rest of the car ride passes in silence, Mark torn between asking Sean a hundred questions and wanting to figure out everything on his own to save face. He decides to stay quiet in the end, partly because he’s proud before anything else, and partly because he doesn’t know how to ask about the basics of his life without raising suspicion. 

Sean tugs Mark’s arm to help him out of the car, immediately slinging it around him once Mark’s standing straight on the street. If it was anyone else, except maybe Eduardo, Mark would shrug him off. But this is one of the few people he’s ever looked up to, so he allows himself to be ushered into a large glass building.

The security team barely give them a second glance as Sean swipes them in, leading him down the hallways without losing his grip on Mark or easy grin once. The building itself is huge, though Mark barely has time to admire the long hallways, elevators, and glass walled offices before Sean comes to a stop.

“Where have you been?” demands a dark haired woman that Mark has never seen before, appearing from the door that they’ve come to a stop at.

“Natalie, come on,” Sean says, sounding as lighthearted as before, even as the woman glares at him, “I’ve got him here in one piece, haven’t I?”

“Ten minutes late and looking bewildered,” she snaps, then turns her attention toward Mark. “Is it really that hard for you to message your assistant and keep her notified?”

“I wasn’t aware that you needed constant updates on my life,” Mark tells her, half because she’s annoying him and half because he genuinely doesn’t know if he should.

“I am asking you to at least try and seem like you care,” the woman, who is apparently his assistant named Natalie, growls, pressing a hand against his back and shoving him forward into the conference room. Mark thinks there’s probably an issue with manhandling your CEO like this, but either it’s a normal thing or she just doesn’t care.

He’s the last to arrive, and his assistant nudges him towards the seat next to Sean. He sits down, and she slides in on his other side, eyes narrowed.

He notices, immediately, that the three other people that should be here, the three people that Mark thought he could count on to be here, aren’t. Eduardo, Dustin, and Chris are absent, which adds another question to the rapidly growing list of things that confuse him. Mark wants to know where they are, but doesn’t know if he can ask without people questioning him in return.

Instead, he focuses on the two unrecognizable people at the front of the room, a man and woman Mark doesn’t know, even though they seem to play important roles in his company.

“Who are they?” He hisses to Sean. Sean, to his credit, makes no further reference to alcohol or drugs, and just looks at Mark in confusion for a moment.

“She’s your Chief Operations Officer, and he’s your spokesman,” he hisses back, “Publicist, PR guy, whatever you wanna call it.”

The second part makes little sense, because Mark had vague plans to give that role to Chris, had the site ever needed someone like that. Chris is polite and always looks presentable and had started arrangements for Mark to be interviewed for The Crimson. He was the only person Mark knew and liked enough to handle that side of things, just like Dustin was the only person he liked enough to code with and Eduardo was the only person he liked enough to get funding from.

Mark is only half-listening to the meeting, which seems to be about data leaks and privacy issues. Natalie is furiously typing down notes next to him, and Sean’s watching the whole thing with a smirk, so he figures it can’t be that serious. He instead focuses on looking for a single familiar face in the room, while wondering where everyone he _ does _know could be.

He must look as confused and startled as he feels, because it’s only when Sean digs him in the ribs that he notices everyone is staring at him.

“Mark,” his COO says, narrowing her eyes, “As our CEO, do you mind focusing on what we’re discussing? This is your company, after all.” 

He weighs up the pros and cons of insulting a senior member of his staff, but before he has a chance to say anything (the pros list was shorter, but he had decided to disregard that), Sean interrupts him.

“Mark’s a little hungover,” Sean says politely, and Natalie shoots them both a look of hellfire. The COO and PR Guy That Isn’t Chris both seem fed up, which feels a little unfair. He’s not even hungover, but they don’t look like they’d believe him if he said he was nineteen years old. He just grimaces instead, and tunes out the rest of it out of spite.

He somehow manages to survive the meeting, and follows Sean on instinct when everyone leaves. He doubts he’d be able to recall a single thing they discussed even if he _ had _been listening, because he’s still trying to figure out what exactly is going on. Sean seems to know enough about Mark’s life that he allows himself to be dumped into what the older man informed him was his office. 

“Get one of the interns to fix you something,” Sean suggests, slapping him on the shoulder. “I’m going to go talk to Sarah for a bit. Might have to finally take her out on that dinner date.”

Mark doesn’t bother asking who Sarah is, just watches Sean through the glass doors of his office. He feels suddenly lost without him, even though he only met him about two hours ago. But he’s the only ally Mark seems to have around right now, unless one of his friends walks through the door in the next minute.

The minute passes without anyone bursting in, and Mark gets to his feet. He doesn’t want to depend on anyone, but he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get through this without someone he actually knows.

He walks out of his office and stands at Natalie’s desk outside to ask her to do some research for him, and she doesn’t even look up at him. “I hope you’re here to apologise for your behaviour this morning.”

Mark opens his mouth to make a snide comment, because he’s pretty sure that she can’t talk to her boss slash the CEO of Facebook like that. But Natalie doesn’t seem to care about what’s appropriate, and his adult self must have kept her on for a reason despite that. Besides, he has something more important he needs to address with her.

“Can you get me Eduardo’s details?” He asks, because he knows that Eduardo, with his kindness and trusting nature and knack for remembering even the tiniest details of Mark’s life, is the one person that would be able to help him.

Mark could find his details himself, once he hacks into his phone and computer, but Natalie is aware of the time and place and would probably find this stuff faster, loathe as Mark is to admit it.

Natalie blinks up at him, as if she’s not sure what to say to that. After several seconds, she comes out with: “Eduardo who?”

It’s a ridiculous question, and Mark can’t help but roll his eyes before answering. “Eduardo Saverin. There’s not another one.” 

Natalie frowns, but nods and turns back to her screen. Despite her attitude she seems to actually do what he asks of her. “I’ll see what I can do. I have his email and assistant’s contact details on file, but I imagine you want more than that.”

He can’t tell if she’s being sincere or not; for all his sarcasm and biting remarks, Mark’s always had difficulty telling the difference between people who are stupid and people who are messing with him), so he just nods and says, “Obviously.”

She looks like she wants to say something to him, but she just mutters something indistinguishable under her breath and begins to do as requested.

Mark retreats back into his office, and begins to try and work on the electronic devices he does have. Whilst the phone is one he’s unfamiliar with, his password is easy enough to work out (he’s a little embarrassed that it’s just _ 020404, _ Facebook’s birthday, and what was just yesterday to Mark.) He almost tells Natalie to stop what she’s doing when he scrolls through his contacts and finds _ Wardo, _only to discover that dialing it brings up an automated message informing him that the number has been disconnected.

Mark hangs up and stares down at his phone in confusion. It’s the weirdest thing that’s happened to him so far, because Eduardo is his CFO and his best friend. Mark can’t remember a time he had to wait more than five seconds for him to answer his call, let alone having nothing but a disconnected number.

He’s about to try again when Natalie knocks on the glass door of his office, opening it right after and completely defeating the purpose. She’s still frowning, even as she hands him a post it note with a phone number, address, and hotel room on it.

“You’re very lucky. He’s staying in a hotel nearby.”

Hotel implies that Eduardo doesn’t live around here, which makes very little sense. If Facebook is based in California, surely that means Eduardo should be out here too. Mark tries not to let any confusion show on his face, and just nods as he commits the details to memory.

“Anything else?” Natalie asks, looking like she’s about to follow in Sean’s footsteps and suggest the intern’s hangover cure to him.

Mark almost tells her no and to leave him alone, but then he remembers that Eduardo wasn’t the only person missing this morning, and he should figure out what’s happened with the other two.

“Set something up for me. With Chris and Dustin.”

Natalie raises an eyebrow, confusion and concern gone, replaced by such a judgemental look that Mark is already back to questioning why he hired her.

“Mr Hughes is in New York, but I can get in touch with Mr Moskovitz’s assistant, see if he wants to get lunch at some point.” 

Well. That explains why someone who isn’t Chris is the head of PR, though it doesn’t do much to soften the blow of his absence, nor does it tell Mark why he isn’t part of the company in the first place. Same with Dustin having an assistant but not being here at Facebook, for that matter.

“Do that,” he tells her, glancing down at the post it note in his hand. _ Nobu Hotel Epiphany, Palo Alto. _“And hire a car service to take me here. Immediately.”

* * *

Five minutes later, Mark finds himself being driven down the streets of Palo Alto again, though this time he knows where he’s going. The roads are still unfamiliar to him, and he looks out the window in amazement at the city that is now his home. Despite how weird the whole situation is, he already feels lighter here than he ever did in Dobbs Ferry or Cambridge.

When the driver pulls up at Eduardo’s hotel, Mark gets out without acknowledging him and ducks inside. The lobby is classy, nicer than any hotel he’s ever stayed in before, and he rolls his eyes. Eduardo’s always gone for the cliché, fancier things.

He manages to sneak inside the lift just as the doors are closing, and he ignores the more well-dressed people there giving him side-eyes. Mark was given dirtier looks for the Facemash incident, he’s not about to care what some privileged people in suits and silk holiday dresses think about him, especially given his current standing in the world. _ CEO, bitch, _just like Sean had said.

He says Eduardo’s room number in his head once he gets off at what he hopes is the right floor, and repeats it right up until he finds it at the end of a long hallway. 

He knocks on the door twice, before shoving his hands in his pockets. _ Finally _, he’s going to see a familiar face and get some answers, instead of receiving dirty looks from people he doesn’t recognise and having to go off vague things Sean says to him.

There’s some movement from the other side of the door, and then it swings open to reveal Eduardo. Eduardo, who’s wearing jeans and a shirt as opposed to his ridiculous suits for once. Eduardo, who looks ten years older than Mark remembers. Eduardo, who is smiling politely up until he registers who’s standing in front of him.

“Mark.”

“Wardo.”

Mark’s barely gotten out the second syllable before the door slams shut in his face.

He’s glad Eduardo isn’t standing there to see him gape in disbelief, because really, _ what the fuck _? Eduardo’s never been rude to Mark, and the few fights they’ve had barely lasted two hours before he caved and started talking to Mark again. He called Mark an asshole once and immediately apologised, as if he hasn’t been called worse on a regular basis by complete strangers. Eduardo is always nice and happy to see him. This is ridiculous.

Frowning, Mark bangs on the door a few more times, not caring how loud he is. He has no idea what’s gotten into Eduardo, but he has no time for anger and theatrics right now. He wants answers, and he knows that Eduardo is the only one that could give them to him. “Wardo, what the fuck is your problem?” 

The door swings open again, Mark’s fist raised in the air. Eduardo glares at him, hand gripping the door frame and turning his knuckles white. “I could ask you that same question.”

Mark’s never been particularly good at identifying when he’s messed up or how to fix things when people do get mad at him, but the way Eduardo is staring at him and speaking to him is so unusual, that he suddenly feels an urge to know what he did wrong so he can work on it. But he’s not about to make a fool of himself, so he just drops his hand and frowns. “What does that even mean?”

Eduardo laughs, but it’s nothing like the loud and bright sound or the drunken giggles that Mark is used to. It’s mean and short, and he steps back, as if he’s going to step inside and slam the door shut again. “Don’t play dumb with me now, Mark.”

Mark rolls his eyes, confusion gradually being replaced by annoyance. He doesn’t understand _ why _this is such a problem, but Eduardo’s always had a tendency towards the melodramatic. “I’m not playing dumb. I need to talk to someone, and you’re the only one I trust. Let me in.”

Eduardo’s eyebrows shoot up, and he sneers. “The only one you trust? Fuck you, Mark. Even after everything, I can’t believe you think this is appropriate behaviour.”

Mark is temporarily at a loss for words at Eduardo’s tone and language, half torn between wanting to fight him for his bitchiness, and half put off by what’s been said. In the year and a half or so they’ve been friends, he can count on one hand the amount of times Eduardo’s raised his voice with him, when most people can’t go a single conversation with him without yelling or storming off. 

Eduardo goes to close the door again, and Mark blurts out the truth before he can do so.

“Wardo, seriously, I need answers. I was nineteen years old last night, and now I’m thirty. You have to help me.” 

Eduardo freezes, clutching the door while it’s still half closed. He doesn’t look like he believes a work Mark just said, but he’s no longer trying to slam the door in his face, so it’s a start. He doesn’t doubt that Eduardo won’t try to do it again though, so he says the rest of what he knows while he still has time.

“Last night, thefacebook had just gone live, and you put me to bed at Kirkland. This morning, I woke up alone in a big house and everything about the site is so much bigger than I could have ever imagined.”

“And you dropped the ‘the,’” Eduardo mutters. 

Mark blinks, because it’s an odd thing for Eduardo to fixate on, but he shrugs. “And I dropped the ‘the.’ Are you going to let me in now?”

“No. Leave me out of your stupid jokes,” Eduardo goes to close the door properly this time, temporary lapse in anger gone. “I can deal with forced politeness at galas and shareholder meetings, but I don’t want to be part of whatever _ this _ is. Just leave me alone. You owe me that.” 

Eduardo’s voice breaks slightly at the last few words, and it throws Mark off. Melodrama aside, he’s never sounded so genuinely upset with Mark, like his very presence pains him. He doesn’t like it and he doesn’t understand it, and it’s making an already ridiculous situation even more complicated and confusing.

“Wardo, come on—“

“Don’t call me that,” Eduardo interrupts, and _ that _ throws Mark off more than anything else. Eduardo had never objected to the nickname before, and had even blushed and stuttered a little the first time Mark ever said _ Wardo. _Whatever he’s done must have really angered him, and he’s willing to make amends but he’s not going to grovel when he doesn’t have any context.

“Why are you acting like this?” He demands, because this is Eduardo, and he’s never been the type to get upset and distant without an explanation. Eduardo likes talking about feelings and clearing the air, and while Mark has never been able to relate, it usually makes navigating their relationship a lot easier. Mark asks, and Eduardo gives, never expecting anything – a recognition of feelings, money, time – in return.

True to form, Eduardo tells him what he wants to know, but it’s like a slap in the face.

“Because we’re not friends anymore,” Eduardo snaps.

Mark’s surprise must show across his face, because something in Eduardo finally breaks, and he lets out a sigh but steps aside to let him into the room. Mark walks in, turning around when he hears the door close shut behind him. Eduardo is leaning against it, looking even older than the thirty-two year old he’s become.

“Mark,” Eduardo says, and there’s still an edge to his voice but he no longer sounds like he’s looking for a fight. Instead, he sounds like he just wants this to be over already, “What exactly do you want from me?” 

Mark doesn’t want to repeat himself yet again, and goes to make a comment on Eduardo’s poor listening and comprehension skills, but things are tense enough between them as it is and he’s trying to wrap his head around _ we’re not friends anymore. _

“It was 2004 yesterday, and now it’s 2014,” Mark says again, “Wardo, you have—”

“Stop calling me that,” Eduardo interrupts again, as if Mark saying the nickname hurts more than anything else.

“_ Ed _uardo,” Mark says, putting the emphasis on the first syllable. Of course Eduardo wants to focus on that part of the sentence. “I am not fucking with you. I have somehow managed to miss the last decade of my life. You have to help me remember everything.”

Eduardo blinks at him, before shaking his head. “Did you miss the part where we’re not friends anymore? Even if I believed anything you’re saying, I wouldn’t be able help you remember your life. I’m not part of it.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Just ask Sean Parker?” He demands, because Sean is amazing and incredible and his hero, but he’s proven to be a useless ally so far and he needs Eduardo to help him.

Eduardo’s face tightens at the mention of Sean, and the fight is back in his voice when he spits out, “You always listened to him more than you ever listened to me.”

Mark wants to ask about _ that _, about how the kicked puppy look disappeared and was replaced by anger as soon as Sean’s name was mentioned. But Eduardo seems to be tired of him already, and he has a feeling that he’ll be kicked out of the hotel if he pushes it. He can ask about it later, once Eduardo is more willing to cooperate.

“Eduardo, come on.”

They look at each other in silence for a few moments, before Eduardo deflates and says, “Look, I can take you to a hospital, if that’s what you need. If you hit your head or something, they’ll be more help than I am.” 

“I didn’t hit my head,” Mark tells him, hoping Eduardo doesn’t pick up on how stupid he thinks this whole discussion is. Eduardo was always good at reading him like that. “I just want to know about my life.”

“And I want you to leave me alone.”

He sounds broken when he says it, and Mark feels a twist in his gut that he didn’t get when he called Erica a bitch or lied to the Winklevoss twins or any of the other shitty things he’s done. He’s not sure _ why _Eduardo is looking at him and speaking to him like Mark ruined his whole life, but he’s making damn sure he feels guilty about it.

He doesn’t know what to say for a moment, whether he should start the argument again or try to _ somehow _ get the truth of their situation out of Eduardo, and the room falls into silence again. This is the kind of situation Mark doesn’t know how to deal with, and he can’t shake off the guilt even _ if _Eduardo is just being melodramatic and infuriating. 

“I can’t tell you whatever it is you want to know,” Eduardo says, breaking the silence. He stares at Mark for a second, before letting out a sigh and rubbing at his face. “I have a rental car. I’ll take you back home and you can figure out what to do from there.”

It’s not what Mark came here for or what he wants, but it’s something, and it prevents him from having to decide if he wants to keep fighting or show some sensitivity, so he gives a quick nod of approval, and lets Eduardo lead the way.

* * *

The drive back to his house is silent, Eduardo gripping the steering wheel tightly. Mark stares at him as he drives, trying to find traces of _ his _Wardo in the lines of this man’s face.

This Eduardo is tense and can’t even talk to Mark without his voice raising or breaking. He barely smiles and won’t trust Mark with anything. He can’t reconcile this man with the Eduardo he knew, the one that made sure he ate and slept, the one that gave him $1,000 just because he asked, the one who would grin and run his fingers through Mark’s hair when drunk, the one that would sometimes fall asleep in Mark’s bed and curl around him during the night. 

“Stop looking at me,” Eduardo tells him, glancing quickly at Mark with narrowed eyes, “It’s unnerving.”

“You’re not the only one who’s unnerved by this situation,” Mark tells him with a roll of his eyes, because Eduardo is giving him no answers and Mark still has no idea what the fuck is going on, with Eduardo and with his life. “At least you’re in the right year.”

He gets a scoff in response, “You really expect me to believe that you woke up ten years in the future? Come on Mark.” 

“Then why are you helping me?” Mark asks, and something flashes over Eduardo’s face, “Since we’re not friends anymore. Why help me if you don’t believe me?” 

“Because you’re clearly overworked and weren’t going to leave me alone if I didn’t deal with you. Get some rest, and I’m sure you’ll remember everything tomorrow. And then you won’t have to bother _ me _again,” Eduardo snaps defensively, but he doesn’t sound like he quite believes it himself.

“I’m not drunk or overworked,” Mark says, “I don’t know why everyone keeps insisting that I am.”

“Right, _ I’m _being ridiculous because I don’t believe you were nineteen years old last night, and think your bad habits are a more reasonable explanation for your sudden memory loss,” Eduardo mutters. “Jesus Christ.”

Mark considers snapping at Eduardo more, but it seems risky to piss him off when he’s so tense and short tempered. He’ll fight him for information when they’re not in a moving vehicle being controlled by Eduardo, and he stares out the window at the streets of Palo Alto instead. He feels Eduardo’s eyes on the back of his head once or twice, but neither of them says anything for the rest of the drive. 

When they pull up at Mark’s house, Eduardo stares straight ahead and doesn’t undo his seatbelt or even loosen his grip on the steering wheel. Mark frowns, because he’s not done with him just yet. He gets the feeling that if he lets Eduardo drive away right now, that he won’t get the chance to talk to him again after this.

“What, you’re not going to make sure I get in okay?” Mark asks, trying to provoke him into giving him _ any _kind of acknowledgement. “That’s not very chivalrous of you, Eduardo.”

Eduardo pinches the bridge of nose, and Mark knows he’s being deliberately annoying, but it’s still disconcerting to see him respond like this. Eduardo usually does whatever Mark wants with a smile on his face, and sometimes doesn’t even need to be asked. 

“You’re such an asshole,” Eduardo tells him, and Mark doesn’t try to argue. He’s been called it enough times that maybe there’s some truth to it, and he’s more put off by the fact it’s Eduardo saying it than the word itself.

Nevertheless, he follows Mark out of the car and up to the steps of his front door, but still refuses to look him in the eye.

They pause at the front step, Mark fumbling with the keys he’s glad he remembered to grab this morning. He doubts Eduardo would wait around for him to call a locksmith, given that he seems ready to take off at any second as it is.

“You have very lax security for a billionaire,” Eduardo comments as he goes to put the key in the lock, gazing around the outside of Mark’s home. Mark frowns at him, both in confusion and annoyance at the fact that Eduardo is unfamiliar with his home, when he’s a constant presence back at Kirkland. He’s still finding it difficult to believe that they’re not friends anymore, when he’s been a constant presence in his life since they met at an AEPi party in Mark’s freshman year.

Eduardo finally looks at him and seems to notice something about his expression, because he lets out a scoff.

“You’re worth 34 billion dollars, Mark,” Eduardo tells him, under the impression that Mark can’t understand he’s a billionaire. Now that it’s been mentioned however, Mark can’t say he’s surprised. He’s never particularly cared for money, never needed a price tag attached to prove his intelligence, but with all the fuss around Facebook and Sean’s attitude this morning, he probably would have worked that out if he’d thought about it enough.

What he can’t fully grasp is Eduardo looking at him and speaking to him like that.

“I have a security system inside. Sean knows my passcode,” he says because he can’t admit to what he’s really feeling, and Eduardo’s face tightens again. Mark ignores his expression for the moment, pulling out his phone, and he messages Sean about his home passcode before turning back to Eduardo.

“Your dislike of Sean means very little when I don’t know _ why _you hate him.” 

“My dislike of Sean meant very little to you when you _ did _ know why I hate him,” Eduardo snaps in response. 

Mark narrows his eyes at that. Every time Eduardo talks, he feels himself flick from confusion to guilt to annoyance, the latter showing up whenever he’s being cryptic and petty. “Your dislike might not have been justified, in that case. If you explained things to me, I could be the judge of that.”

Eduardo stares at him, but the anger has faded from his face. Just frustrated, and sad, as if he’s been through this too many times before. Maybe they have, and Mark doesn’t know if he should feel guilty or take it as a sign that he’s right and Eduardo’s just being ridiculous. He tells himself it’s the second option, because he doesn’t _ want _to feel bad about this, and he also can’t imagine why anyone would hate Sean Parker.

“Like I told you back when we first met him. He’s just bad news. You don’t need him.”

The reasons are petty and ridiculous, and Mark starts to feels validated that his thirty year old self _ was _right in ignoring Eduardo’s complaints. But he doesn’t think it’s the full story, and he’s always been better at pushing people to their limits rather than talking things through.

“But he’s my friend, and you’re not.”

Mark only says it to get a rise out of Eduardo, and hopefully some proper and full answers in turn. Sean is apparently a sore spot for him, and if he’s going to evade any direct questions, maybe he can get the truth this way: by bothering him until he snaps and comes out the truth, like he did with the status of their friendship. But Eduardo doesn’t seem any angrier - his eyes fill with hurt, and he straightens up, staring down at Mark. 

“That was a choice you made, yes. Are we done here?”

Mark’s phone vibrates before he gets the chance to reply, and he opens it to find three texts from Sean in succession:

_ starting to think you’re still drunk _

_ you coming back or???? _

_ it’s 102803 btw _

Mark ignores the question, unlocking the door and punching in the security code instead while Eduardo watches him with a frown. With a beep, he’s finally granted secure access to his own home, and he shuffles inside, Eduardo two steps behind.

Now that he’s more aware of what’s going on and convinced nobody’s trying to kidnap him, Mark gets a chance to properly check out his place. It’s big and open, and while there’s very little furniture besides a couch, he spies more electronics than he’s ever owned his life lying around. Glass doors lead to a patio outside where Mark can just make out a pool, and while he’s never cared much about where he’s living as long as there’s beer and internet access, it’s a much better sight than the cramped and cold dorm at Kirkland.

“This is mine. All of it,” he says, more to himself than Eduardo, but he hears him let out a sigh anyway. Mark turns to look back at Eduardo, who is still lingering near the door.

“Yes. You got everything you ever wanted. Congratulations, Mark.”

“Everything?” he asks, even though by all appearances, Eduardo is right. Facebook is bigger than he ever dreamed, he’s friends with Sean Parker, people actually do what he says as opposed to asking idiotic questions. But Eduardo’s voice sounds so flat, a stark contrast to the boy that told him _ That’s really good _with such pride and awe just one day ago.

But it wasn’t one day ago. It was ten years.

“People realised how smart you were,” Eduardo says, and even though his voice is quiet, it’s the only sound in the whole house. “You changed the world, and now everyone knows who you are and how much you’re worth. You get to live in a nice house and boss people around and be friends with your heroes. That’s all you ever wanted, right?.”

“For the most part,” he shrugs, and something unreadable takes over Eduardo’s face.

“Changing the way people connect and gaining recognition, sure, but it was never about the money,” he elaborates “thefacebook – _ Facebook – _was never about that. It was about—”

“Connecting the world and showing people what you were capable of,” Eduardo finishes, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I was there, remember?”

“But you’re not anymore.”

Eduardo doesn’t say anything, just nods once and turns to leave. Mark doesn’t want him to go, wants to sit him down and get some answers, but he doesn’t want to _ ask _ him to stay. Eduardo usually invites himself, and Mark isn’t going to make a fool of himself by asking now, especially when he’s pretty sure Eduardo would just laugh in his face anyway, or at least make a vague comment while looking at him like he ruined the entire world.

“Goodbye, Mark,” Eduardo tells him, and he sounds exhausted, like this entire thing has taken a lifetime as opposed to an hour. 

“Right. I’ll see you around,” he says, and Eduardo shakes his head at him.

“No, I won’t be seeing you.”

He walks back out the door before Mark can say anything else, and he has to resist the urge to yell at Eduardo so he’ll stay and talk, or even just fight. But Eduardo refuses to tell him what’s wrong and Mark is sick of going around in circles with him, when he has things in this life that he doesn’t have to fight for. So he keeps his mouth shut, and closes the door on his best friend. Ex-best friend, it seems.

He stands there for a moment and decides to push this entire thing out of his mind, and embrace everything else his adulthood has to offer. He has everything he ever wanted, and he refuses to not enjoy it because of a man that wants nothing to do with him. That’s Eduardo’s problem, not his. Mark has more important things to focus on. 

He turns back into the living room, knowing that he needs to start with his creation, the most amazing thing he’s ever done and most important aspect of his life. There’s a laptop lying on the coffee table, and Mark picks it up, sitting back down on the couch. He flips it open, and is relieved to see there’s no password (although this is quickly replaced with annoyance at his current self for leaving it so open, even though it’s just one of many devices).

He logs onto Facebook easy enough, and his eyes light up at what he sees on the screen. It’s changed from what he’s spent the last few months building, filled with features he hadn’t even considered, but it’s still blue and white and _ his. _

He explores the site for a bit, getting acquainted with everything that’s changed and everything that’s familiar. On the surface level it’s perfect, everything he ever envisioned for it, but his fingers are itching to get into the code.

Before he allows himself to get any further with that, he looks himself up quickly, trying to find useful information about the past ten years of his life. There’s a few articles about privacy concerns on social media, which he ignores – if people are stupid enough to share things without changing their settings or reading the terms & conditions, that’s not his fault. There’s little else out there, and Mark finds himself torn between annoyance and comfort that his future self is still so privacy obsessed. 

There’s a section on his Wikipedia page titled _ Legal controversies, _ which Mark ignores when he sees _ ConnectU Lawsuit _at the top of the list. He thinks briefly of the Winklevoss twins and the fact that they apparently sued him when he sees it, which is all the time he’s willing to give to them and anyone else that thinks they’re entitled to his money and success. 

The only other thing he does is look up _ Eduardo Saverin _on Facebook, because he needs to know what it looks like before he moves on from whatever they have. His profile picture is different from the one Mark had set up for him the day before (a photo of him at some AEPi party, grinning brightly at Mark in one of his suits under tacky lights), and is now a professional business photo. He looks handsome in the picture, and it’s harder to see the tense lines in his face or the sadness in his eyes that are present than the Eduardo he saw in person. 

But Mark doesn’t have time to dwell on that, because all he can think is that he and Eduardo aren’t Facebook friends. He’d begrudgingly considered the idea that he and Eduardo weren’t close anymore, after Eduardo had repeatedly insisted as much before walking out. But this feels like a more personal slap in the face, as if his refusal to be online friends on a website they founded together is a direct attack on Mark, crueler and more personal than not being friends in real life.

Mark frowns, fingers stilled against the keys as he considers hacking into it to dig a little deeper. It’s a shitty thing to do, sure, but the “Add Eduardo as a friend,” button is mocking him, and he wants answers, wants to know about his own life as well as the life of this apparent stranger. And it wouldn’t be hard to do, he’d barely need to hack into his own website.

He hesitates, but ultimately decides against it, his stomach constricting the more he considers it. Eduardo was never particularly computer savvy, and Mark knows he wouldn’t get caught, but going ahead feels wrong, somehow. He never looked into Eduardo’s private life back at Harvard, and it’s still not a line he’s willing to cross, even though they’re not college students anymore. (Even if Mark knows he really is.)

Instead, he clicks out of the page with a frown, plugs in the headphones lying on the table in front of him, and decides to get lost in code instead. That, at least, is familiar to him, and it’s as easy to focus on it in 2014 as it was in 2004, and is bound to take his mind off the one flaw in his new life.

Time tends to pass without his knowledge when he’s focused like this, and he’s pretty wired in when suddenly the headphones are ripped off his ears, and Mark spins around in irritation. “What the fuck?”

Sean is standing behind the couch, headphones in his hand and a grin on his face. Mark feels his anger die down a little once he realises who the culprit is – this is _ Sean Parker from Napster – _but he generally doesn’t like being disturbed, let alone being disturbed when he’s wired in.

“Good to see you’re still functioning,” Sean says, handing Mark back his headphones and propping his arm against the top of the couch “Your staff were starting to think their CEO had mysteriously up and died or gotten involved in criminal activity.”

“I was at work this morning,” Mark replies, wanting to get back into the code but completely thrown off track by Sean’s interference. “And I texted you a few hours ago.”

“Acting like you don’t know anything, leaving with no warning and sending one text message asking for your security code isn’t your style. It’s mine, maybe, but someone usually has to drag _ you _ out of the office. Natalie usually, if she thinks you’re going to die at your desk and doesn’t want to deal with the repercussions, but I’m willing to face your wrath if we can get a night of drinks out of it. You disappearing at 10am is pretty much the opposite of normal. Where’d you go?”

Mark wonders if he should mention Eduardo, but he seems to hate Sean and Mark can’t risk Sean getting irritated in case the feeling is mutual. Ever since he revealed his identity in the morning, Mark has been filled with a need to be liked and respected by the man in front of him, which is an unfamiliar feeling for Mark. Usually he doesn’t care at all what people think of him, let alone _ crave _their attention, but Sean Parker was – and still is, to nineteen year old Mark – somewhat of a hero. Even now, sitting here in his thirty year old body and CEO of what has to be one of the biggest social networking sites in the world, he’s absolutely fascinated by Napster and the figures behind it. He can ignore Eduardo’s existence when he has Sean Parker in front of him. Eduardo definitely seemed to be ignoring his.

So he just shrugs instead, and that seems to be good enough for Sean, who claps his hands together. “Well, if you’re going to bail on work to do something mysterious, you definitely have to come out for drinks. We haven’t partied in forever.”

Mark thinks about last night, when he was still nineteen and Eduardo was still his friend and they got drunk near the campus before he woke up here. It’s probably risky to go out again and run the chance of waking up in his 50s or something, but drinks with Sean Parker is something he never considered happening in his wildest dreams, and he’s not stupid enough to let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers. If he wakes up back in his dorm room tomorrow, at least he’ll have that memory. 

He doesn't say any of this though, just shrugs and says, “Sure. We can do that.”

Sean grins.

* * *

Sean takes him out to some club that’s filled with undergraduates from Stanford and sleek business men hitting on 20 year olds. He mentions something about it being the “hottest new place to be in Palo Alto,” and it’s a far cry from the bars he’s used to visiting back at Harvard. The music is some pop remix and the lights are colourful and flashing, the girls seem far too glamorous to be college students, and the businessmen are wearing jackets that cost more than Mark’s entire wardrobe.

He’s never felt more out of place in his life.

If it wasn’t for Sean’s presence and seemingly never ending enthusiasm, he would’ve turned and walked out the second he got inside. But Mark wants to impress him, wants to be the guy that Sean Parker can take out for drinks and parties. The idea sounds more exciting than anything any Final Club could offer him, and makes Caribbean Night at AEPi an even bigger laughing stock.

So he takes the drinks Sean presses into his hands, nods in approval about all the hot girls Sean makes comments about.

“You and me,” Sean announces, throwing his arm around Mark’s shoulder, “Eternal playboys. Relationships aren’t worth the hassle.”

“I don’t think I really look like a playboy,” Mark points out, and Sean laughs.

“Who cares, man? You’re young and loaded. Nobody gives a shit how you dress or what you say.”

Mark finds himself smiling at the thought, because that was always his biggest problem when trying to find girls to date. If they weren’t put off by his unkempt appearance, they were put off by his cutting words and disdain for most people, and whatever appeal he _ did _have was damaged in the aftermath of that breakup, with his admittedly impulsive blog posts and, in the case of Erica, the creation of Facemash. Money and success seem to have made both of those factors and the offensive nature of the site obsolete, and for the first time, he feels so far from that nineteen year old who got dumped by Erica Albright and dealt with dirty looks from girls on campus for months. 

Eduardo had chewed him out for Facemash later, back at the suite after the meeting with the administrative board. Mark had reminded him that he’d willingly given the algorithm, annoyed by his claims of innocence in the whole thing, and Eduardo had sort of ducked his head and blushed. Mark’s annoyance had faded slightly at Eduardo’s claims he’d did it for him, and completely disappeared when he bought them beer that night.

But Eduardo isn’t here anymore and all of that was apparently years ago, and now he has Sean and the possibility of having anyone he wants.

“You’re thirty, man,” Sean says, leaning in to Mark’s ear so he can be heard, “This has the potential to be the best decade of your life if you let it.”

Mark snorts, because he’s pretty sure Dustin gave Eduardo a similar speech on his twenty first birthday, in a ridiculous attempt to get him to buy them drinks. Sean’s speech seems more sincere, which makes the whole thing slightly more ridiculous.

Sean seems to pick up on his disbelief, because he steps back from Mark and grins toothily at him.

“Look at me!” He spreads out his arms, and Mark wants to roll his eyes at the absurdity of it all, but he can’t help but find the whole thing a little thrilling. “Thirty-four and at the peak of my life! When have I ever led you down the wrong path?”

Mark can’t help but grin back, if only because Sean’s enthusiasm is contagious and he seems to _ like _Mark and want him to enjoy himself.

“Now,” he says, seemingly satisfied with Mark’s silent response, “We’re both going to find ourselves some hot girls, and we’re gonna have a good time tonight.”

He must sense Mark’s lingering doubts, because Sean leans over to ruffle his hair. “You’re Mark Zuckerberg, man. Everyone here would want you if they knew that. You’re even more desired than me, and that’s _ really _saying something.”

If it was anyone else or the circumstances were different, Mark would have rolled his eyes. But this is Sean Parker and he seems to think the world belongs to Mark. 

No one's ever been interested in Mark for being _ Mark Zuckerberg _, and it's a little alarming. Most people avoided him the moment they found out his full name (especially in the wake of Facemash, though there were various rumours of what Chris deemed his "unpleasant" behaviour beforehand, because Harvard students are just as immature as any other kind of teenagers). Ironically, Erica being from BU is probably one of the only reasons she paid attention to him to begin with.

It's confusing and unfamiliar and a little uncomfortable, but Mark can't deny the thrill he feels. Sean's laughing in his ear and there's a glass of something that isn't beer or a vodka red bull in his hand. He's worth billions of dollars and people want him and he's CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world.

Why would he need Eduardo when he has all of this?

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, he half expects to be back at Kirkland on a shitty February day in 2004. Mark’s never really had vivid dreams, and certainly not ones as perfect as being a CEO/best friends with Sean Parker/rich and appealing figure. He’d never experienced a dream so good that he didn’t want to leave it. Even as he stumbled to bed at 3am after Sean had crashed on the couch following one too many beers, he considered staying awake for as long as his body would let him, just in case things would be back to his normal, _ boring _life when he woke up. 

But he’s not at Kirkland, or in the year 2004 when he opens his eyes. He’s where he _ wants _to be, in his own bed in his own house in Palo Alto in 2014. Either he’s still dreaming or this is all very real, but for once, it’s a problem he cares little about solving. He can’t come up with a reasonable explanation for what’s happening and doesn’t need to, because he has everything he wants regardless of the reasons behind it all.

Mark had been doing rather well the night before with some women (or at least, doing well for his standards), and had hoped he’d might actually be able to put his identity to good use, even if he couldn’t remember their names in return. But then Sean had reappeared and insisted they leave after he made the mistake of hitting on someone that had a very intimidating, very present, boyfriend, and had grumbled the entire way back about them both missing out on a great night because of one fuck up. Mark had been kind of annoyed too, because Sean had hyped up him and the potential for sex so much that it had gotten _ him _excited, and he didn’t want to let it go so soon.

But then Sean had declared the night wasn’t over yet. He’d raided Mark’s fridge for beer and they’d sat on pool chairs outside, and didn’t stop grinning even when Mark talked about Facebook and code until the early hours of the morning. He made a few comments about how he was acting like it was that first summer all over again (and Mark barely stopped himself from asking what he meant), but didn’t seem to suggest anything was out of the ordinary. It wasn’t the night Mark had been expecting but spending time with Sean Parker, talking about _ his _website was almost as good as hooking up with someone young and beautiful.

He’s somewhat glad he woke up alone, given that he can’t keep the smile off his face as he stares up at the ceiling and thinks about the world he’s found himself in. 

He goes straight to the offices after showering, not bothering with breakfast or trying to rouse Sean, who’s still passed out on his couch. Now that it seems he’s here for the time being, and _ some _personal questions have been answered, he can focus on what’s most important to him: his idea from Caribbean night that has managed to evolve into something that changed the world.

Natalie berates him for disappearing without any warning yesterday, but seems reassured that Mark is in a better state today, and informs him she’s arranged a lunch with Dustin for the end of the week.

“How was seeing Mr. Saverin?” she asks before he ducks into the office, and Eduardo’s face from the day before flashes across his mind. Natalie’s confusion about his request makes more sense now, even if Eduardo refused to tell them the specifics of why they’re not friends anymore.

But he’s not thinking about that anymore, isn’t going to let one needlessly melodramatic, sweet-looking Brazilian ruin everything else for him. If Eduardo doesn’t want to talk to him, he can deal with their problems on his own.

“Not worth it,” Mark replies, and shuts himself in his office before she can ask any further questions. If he’s not going to think about Eduardo and the mystery surrounding their relationship, he’s definitely not going to talk about it with the rude members of his staff.

He spends the next few days dedicating himself to Facebook, coming into the office first thing in the morning and staying as late as he can every night. Nobody makes any comment about his behaviour, so he assumes that Sean was telling the truth when he said this is what Mark usually does anyway. Sean doesn’t come by his house or the offices again, but he sends Mark regular and sometimes eccentric texts that keep him entertained during the duller moments of his days. 

He tries not to think about Eduardo, and loses himself in code even more whenever he sneaks into his mind. Mark has never really missed anyone before, and he’s not used to the feeling that comes with the thought of him. It seems pointless to dwell on it, especially since Eduardo apparently doesn’t want anything to do with him in the first place.

Even ignoring _ that, _there are aspects of his new life that he could do without. He keeps getting dragged to meetings and his staff seems to be perpetually irritated with him (in the case of his Natalie, his COO, and PR Guy That Isn't Chris – the latter two he refuses to learn the names of), or shooting him scared glances (the rest of his staff, particularly the interns that seem to scurry off whenever he walks by.)

But it's still everything Mark has ever wanted. He'd hoped, and to a lesser extent expected, thefacebook to become _ something _. But this is larger than even he thought he could achieve, and it'll take more than a few disgruntled employees and the loss of one friendship to deter him. 

He codes when he can, studies his own Facebook page to find insights into his own life (it's far more positive and fake than his Livejournal ever was, though he supposes that's a good thing given the backlash certain posts got). His friends list is exactly as expected: Dustin, Chris, Sean, Harvard classmates that didn't annoy him _ too _much and were smart enough to tolerate, people who work at Facebook and a few bigger, admirable names. There's one notable exception to the list, but Mark pushes that to the back of his mind, familiarizes himself with his remaining friends as they are now.

He begins to miss them several days into his new life, although he can’t recall caring that much about their absence before. It’s weird to live with someone and deal with them on a daily basis only for that to change suddenly without warning, and Mark finds himself actually looking forward to seeing Dustin on Friday, even though dining out with Dustin usually results in embarrassment.

Mark meets him at some Italian restaurant about a ten minute walk from the Facebook offices. It feels odd, to be actually going out of his way to meet with his friend at some fancy place, when Mark is so used to hanging out with him at Kirkland while they eat ramen together. It seems so adult, and he has to remind himself yet again that they’re both thirty year old billionaires with Wikipedia pages and companies of their own now, and ramen at Kirkland is long gone. 

Dustin grins when he spots him, throwing his arms around Mark and pulling him into a tight hug before he can squirm away. 

“Come on, man, it’s been _ ages _since we hung out. I’m entitled to at least one hug,” Dustin tells him, releasing Mark with a laugh. He certainly looks older even though he doesn’t act it, but his smile is still the same and his hair still glints with red in the sunlight. Dustin’s always acted more like a dog than a human, too full of energy and excitement, but it’s a welcome relief given Eduardo’s behaviour a few days before. Mark has no doubt that it’ll get annoying again before too long, but it’s nice that at least one person is acting normal.

“It hasn’t been that long,” Mark tells him as they head inside. He saw him less than a week ago (albeit that was nineteen year old, drunk Dustin that was throwing glitter everywhere), and he can’t imagine that it’s been that long in this year either, given that they’re both still based in Palo Alto and Dustin is near impossible to get rid of. But he doesn’t say anything in response, just makes a face that Mark can’t work out.

Thankfully, Dustin immediately launches into asking about Facebook and talking about his own company as soon as they’re seated, avoiding any more awkward conversations that Mark doesn’t want to deal with. He’s done enough research on his former roommate to ask the appropriate questions and make comments that he thinks aren’t _ too _ condescending, and doesn’t reveal anything about his situation. Dustin would probably believe him, because he likes weird and impossible things, but he doesn’t _ want _anyone else to know about it. It would raise too many questions and Mark doesn’t want to listen to whatever theories he’s sure to come up with. Eduardo was the only one he trusted with the information and that got him nowhere, and he’s not going to make exceptions for anyone else.

He ignores any enquiries about his personal life (because he doesn’t have much to go off there, and doesn’t know how updated Dustin is), and tries to feign interest in Dustin’s life outside of programming instead.

“Any girl foolish enough to date you, then?” He asks, poking at his pasta. Dustin goes silent, and Mark glances up to see him frowning at him. Mark isn’t sure what he’s done wrong, as there was nothing on his Facebook page about a significant other, but Dustin shakes his head and answers the question before he can dwell on it.

“I have a boyfriend. His name is Elliot.”

“Oh,” Mark says, because he’d never even considered that about Dustin. Chris was his gay roommate, Dustin was his straight one. Except, apparently, he didn’t have any straight roommates. “I didn’t realise you were gay.” 

“Bisexual,” Dustin corrects, “Which I’ve told you before, but your mind doesn’t seem to deem it important information.” 

Dustin’s grinning when he says it, but Mark knows him well enough to hear the barely disguised hurt underneath it. It’s been a day, and he’s already tired of feeling guilty for not knowing anything about the past ten years of his life, and all the things he’s apparently done and said, all the things people have apparently told him.

"It’s been a weird couple of days,” Mark shrugs instead of saying sorry, because he doesn’t like apologizing when he knows he’s at fault (the rare times he’ll begrudgingly admit he has been), let alone when he has no control over what’s happened to him. 

Dustin, thankfully, has always been incredibly forgiving and able to bounce back remarkably fast, and his eyes light up at the word ‘weird.’

“Weird how? Like creepy weird or gross weird?”

Mark rolls his eyes. He knows he can’t tell Dustin the full extent of what’s happened to him, but he thinks there’s one thing he should be able to share, and maybe he’ll get some information in return. “Neither. I saw Eduardo earlier this week.”

Dustin freezes, all easy-going joy gone. Mark tries to remember if he’s ever seen him look genuinely upset and concerned, and all he can recall is the time that _ Dinosaur _movie came on TV late at night, and Dustin had promptly freaked the fuck out. That, at least, had been funny, but Mark fails to find anything amusing in the situation now. 

Dustin slowly unfreezes, biting his lip for a moment before speaking again. “How did he seem?”

Mark shrugs. “Angry.”

“You sound surprised,” Dustin says, staring at him in disbelief. 

_ Because he was my best friend a week ago _, Mark thinks, but he doesn’t tell Dustin that. That would raise more questions than answers, and he doesn’t know how to explain the strange meeting and stranger situation anyway. He half wondered if Eduardo had already told Dustin about their conversation, but he’s not sure if they’re still friends either. Eduardo had liked all of them but was closest to Mark, and Mark was closer to Chris and Dustin because they all lived together and it was impossible not to be. If Eduardo hated Mark now, it was possible he hated them too. Maybe they had something to do with all of it.

“It’s been _ years. _ How can he still be that mad?” He asks, because he’s sick of everyone’s weird behaviour when he’s the only one who has a right to be confused. He has nothing to work with, and even if Eduardo gave him nothing, he hopes that Dustin will give him _ something. _

Instead, Dustin just shakes his head, staring down at his plate. “Mark. I’ve told you. You’re both my friends, and I never wanted any part of this. But you can’t blame Wardo for being mad. You’ve given him no reason to get past it.”

Mark wants to fight him on that, but he doesn’t know what _ it _is or what’s happened in the years since. For all he knows, Dustin is telling the truth, and that bothers Mark more than the idea that he’s lying.

He’s avoided thinking about it all week, trying to focus on Facebook and Sean and everything cool about his life instead. But now they’ve brought him up, and Mark can’t help but think about how unfair the whole situation is. Whatever he did is in the past, and it’s frustrating that Eduardo refused to move past that and try to help Mark out. He shouldn’t have to deal with his melodrama for something he never did (or is _ yet _to do, given his current state). All he needed was answers.

But Eduardo was rude and unhelpful and made it clear he no longer cared about him, and said he no longer had the right to call him _ Wardo _even though Dustin still could. It’s unfair and infuriating and he doesn’t deserve any of this. 

“I just wanted to talk to him.”

“Dude,” Dustin says, and he sounds so serious and out of character that it makes Mark a little uncomfortable. “I know, and I get that. But you can’t force him back into your life. Not when he’s tried so hard to get past it. He has nothing to do with Facebook outside of his shares. He’s got a job and a life in a whole other city. He’s getting married. Let him move on.”

Mark only briefly registers the part about letting him move on (which he doesn’t agree with, anyway, because it’s not fair that he’s getting left behind over things he didn’t experience) because— Eduardo’s getting married?

Something curls deep inside of him. It’s a twisted, bitter feeling. The same one he got when a guy hit on Erica at a party once and when Eduardo got punched by the Phoenix. He tries to shove it down, but something must show on his face because Dustin suddenly looks sympathetic and he turns away, pretending to study the architecture. He doesn’t want pity.

“Mark, you _ knew. _We got drinks two months ago for the first time in ages because I got my invitation. You can’t keep ignoring it.”

“I’m not ignoring it,” Mark says stiffly, turning back to face Dustin. He refuses to look in his eyes though, because he _ doesn’t want pity. _“He’s free to marry someone if he wants. And fine. If he doesn’t want us to be friends anymore, then it’s not my business.”

They sit in silence for several minutes, and Mark can tell that Dustin’s debating whether or not he should push it. It doesn’t surprise him when Dustin just deflates, nods once, and leans back in his chair. He’s not good at confrontation and discussing serious issues, which is probably why they’re still friends. Chris is great at confrontation which inconveniences Mark when he’s the one Chris is pissed at, and Eduardo had always been willing to discuss things that were too heavy for Mark to deal with. Dustin’s a fresh break from that, especially now, when he just wants some kind of normalcy.

“So what’s new?” Mark asks awkwardly, and Dustin grins.

Dustin switches the conversation topic about five times in the next half hour, talking about his work (“I get it now, why you loved creating something like Facebook so much.”) and his boyfriend (“He’s also into technology, just, uh, a different field!”) and his lunch (“Second best chicken sandwich I had this month, hands down.”) and music (in which Mark has to stop himself for asking who Taylor Swift is and why Dustin is so desperate for new music from her) and the weird news he’s read that week (apparently they’re using rat-like sex robots to study evolution, something Mark finds disturbing and Dustin finds hilarious). 

Normally, his neverending chatter gives Mark a headache, but it’s a familiar comfort in this strange new world. Mark didn’t think he’d miss it in less than a few days, but he supposes the talk with Eduardo, drinks with his hero, and running a billion dollar company have thrown him off more than he thought. This is something he can do without exposing the truth or making an idiot of himself.

After they finish and pay, they stand on the street, Dustin still finishing up some overly complicated story. It’s the most normal he’s felt all week, and it doesn’t even surprise him when Dustin hugs him without warning, and he almost smiles as he shoves him off.

“Reply to my texts,” he says, punching Mark’s shoulder with a loose smile. “It gets so boring at work.”

“Why would you start your own company if you’re just going to text me the entire time?” He asks, and Dustin just laughs.

“That’s _ why _ I started my own company. You never let me get away with anything.”

Mark wishes he had experienced those years they did work together, when they were young and on top of the world. He’s still there at the top, of course, but he can’t help but wonder what it was like to be living his dreams with his friends next to him.

Dustin waves goodbye to him as he gets into his own car, and Mark tries not to dwell on their conversation about Eduardo or the moments when even Dustin had seemed upset with him. They’re small, irrelevant bumps in the road in his new life. That’s all.

Mark returns to the office after their lunch, and tells Natalie not to let anyone bother him while he does some coding. She purses her lips and says something about notes from the COO, but he waves her off. Despite his best efforts, moments from the past few hours keep running through his mind, and he suddenly finds it harder to ignore all Eduardo related thoughts. Wiring in is going to be the only way he can bury them for a bit, before he does something irrational.

Mark likes coding because it’s something that comes naturally to him, but still complicated enough that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. When he was hacking and writing for Facemash, he didn’t think about the repercussions or the message they were sending because the thoughts didn’t cross his mind. Nothing did until Eduardo showed up, because all he cared about was the numbers and letters in front of him, and by then, he was too hooked on what he was making that he didn’t hear Eduardo’s objections, just the algorithm he gave.

It’s the same this time around. He doesn’t think about Eduardo once he pulls his headphones on and brings up a project to work on, because the code needs his full attention. He doesn’t think about Dustin’s sad looks or _ we’re not friends anymore. _He loses himself in it until the twist in the gut fades and his hands stop shaking, and it’s a little after 9pm when he finally pulls himself back out.

It’s dead as he looks around, the offices empty of staff. Most of the lights are switched off, and he can’t hear anything except for the hum of his laptop. He wonders how often he does this, because Natalie didn’t come in to tell him to eat or sleep, like this is just what she expects from him by now. He’s glad that nobody disturbed him, but it feels eerie to find himself alone now.

He’s used to coming out from coding tears and finding the suite empty and dark, but he’s always known that sooner or later, Dustin would burst through the door with exciting news or Chris would throw a pen at him and remind him that it’s _ his _turn to clean the bathroom, or Eduardo would come in with takeout and beer because he doesn’t think they can look after themselves. And Mark would groan and tell them (or at least Dustin and Chris) to fuck off, and he’d wish they’d just leave him alone again.

But right now, he just feels lonely.

It’s not a feeling he’s used to. He was left alone for most of high school, and only has something resembling a social life now because he lucked out with his roommates and one cool, charming older friend. It’s really bothered him – most people aren’t worth his time or his energy anyway – but now he feels the way he did when Erica left him alone at the Thirsty Scholar, except tenfold. Lonely and hated, and he feels an ache for human contact that he can’t ever remember feeling before.

He gulps, and stares at his laptop, fingers twitching. Sean’s not in town, having messaged Mark something about being invited to the 25th birthday party of a celebrity Mark didn’t know or care for. He’s not about to get in touch with Dustin for the second time that day just because he’s suddenly craving human interaction, and as far as he can tell, he’s not close with anyone else in his life.

As much as he tries to ignore it, there’s only one person he actually wants to talk to.

He memorised Eduardo’s new number on the car ride over to his hotel, and though Mark has done his best to forget about it all, the numbers come rushing back. Everything here in this world seems so good, but there’s so much surrounding their relationship that he doesn’t have any answers for.

Eduardo’s life seems so far away from his now, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’d been easier to pretend things would sort themselves out and Eduardo would eventually get over his theatrics once he saw where Mark was coming from, but with Dustin’s confirmation things are messed up beyond repair and Eduardo is _ engaged, _that seems far less likely.

Mark needs to talk to Eduardo, but Eduardo isn’t going to come to him. Mark doesn’t want to put himself out there, but there’s no other option.

He only hesitates for another second before digging out his phone. 

“Hello?” 

Eduardo sounds tired, but polite enough to make Mark think he doesn’t have his number saved and is just acting on instinct. He wonders if Eduardo would have even picked up if he’d known who was calling.

“Wa-_ Eduardo,” _Mark corrects himself with a roll of his eyes before Eduardo can. “It’s Mark. Can we talk? In person.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and he half expects to be hung up on before he can even say anything else.

“Mark, you can’t just—” 

“I still don’t remember anything,” he interrupts, because he doesn’t want to hear Eduardo say that they can’t talk or that this is incredibly inappropriate, and he needs to get this out while he still has the chance. “Or rather, I still never lived through the past ten years because I’ve found no head injuries that would suggest amnesia, and I think at least one person in my life would be aware if a traumatic incident caused this much memory loss. I’ve searched online and this doesn’t seem to be a common occurrence, outside of people who also believe they’ve been abducted by aliens and communicated with demons. Neither of those things have happened to me, just this.” 

“What do you think this is, then?” Eduardo asks, and his tone’s slightly mocking. “Do you think the universe is trying to teach you a lesson?”

“Possibly,” Mark shrugs, even though he knows Eduardo can’t see it, “I don’t see what lessons I would have to learn, though.” 

He realises it’s the wrong thing to say when Eduardo’s cold laugh from last week comes through the phone, and Mark winces. He wonders what topics he has to avoid to make sure he never has to hear it again. 

“Right. I forgot. You already know everything.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Mark pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t think it’s a likely scenario, when considering all the factors.”

“No part of this scenario is likely,” Eduardo tells him, and Mark wonders if he’ll ever be able to convince him that he’s telling the truth. “Goodbye, Mark.”

“Eduardo, don’t hang up. I need you.”

The words come out before he can stop them, hanging in the air for a few moments. Mark squeezes his eyes shut, half wishing he could take them back. He doesn’t like needing people, let alone admitting it, but he can’t do this without Eduardo. Best friends or not, Eduardo knew him – _ knows _him – better than anyone else, and he can’t exactly ask Sean or Natalie about this. They would think he’s on something, and he doesn’t trust them. He only trusts Eduardo.

“Mark, you have other people you can call.”

“I don’t,” he says, eyes still tightly shut. “Nobody else cares the way you do. You know me better than everyone else.”

“I don’t know you at all,” Eduardo whispers, and Mark opens his eyes to the dark office around him. “I don’t know if I ever did.”

Mark doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know he can keep trying to talk to Eduardo when he can’t apologise and Eduardo won’t hear him out. He’s mad at Eduardo and mad at his adult self for whatever he’s supposedly done, because Mark doesn’t want to deal with these fractured elements of his perfect life.

It’s Eduardo that breaks the silence, because he’s always been better with these things than Mark and he’s the one that’s lived through the past decade.

“Dustin texted me, asking how I was. Said you mentioned our meeting and that you were acting weird about it.”

“He should mind his own business,” Mark grumbles, though he has a feeling that Dustin reaching out to him is the only reason Eduardo hasn’t hung up yet.

Eduardo, on the other end, lets out a sigh, but comes through all the same – just as Mark knew he would, because he’s always been reliable like that, and Mark thinks that he might be starting to believe his story.

“Where are you? I’ll come by.”

He goes silent when Mark tells him that he’s at the Facebook offices, and Mark briefly wonders if he’s going to take back his offer. Similar to the Sean stuff, he doesn’t understand what Facebook has to do with the current state of their relationship, but Eduardo never seems happy when it’s brought up. Mark finds that harder to understand than his hatred of Sean, because Facebook is Eduardo’s too, and whatever success it has now can be tied back to that first $1,000. 

“I’ll be there,” Eduardo finally says, and then he hangs up.

Mark slips outside of the offices, and waits on the curb outside with his phone clutched in his hand. Facebook HQ is enough out of the way that there’s no one else around, and it’s easy enough to spot Eduardo when the headlights of his rental car light up the street. 

“So, you’re still convinced you’re nineteen?” Eduardo asks as he climbs out of the car, and Mark doesn’t even dignify that with a response beyond a roll of his eyes, because this is not what he wants to deal with right now. He explained it to Eduardo in person last time, and on the phone about twenty minutes ago. If he wants to remain ignorant to the facts, Mark can’t force him to change his mind.

They’re silent for a while, neither of them quite looking at each other. Eduardo sighs (he seems to be doing an awful lot of that) and starts walking down the street, and Mark has no choice but to go with him.

He doesn’t like it. He’s used to leading the way.

Eduardo doesn’t seem to want to start a conversation, which he supposes is fair – Mark was the one that called him up to talk, after all. But he doesn’t know where to begin, or even what’s expected from him.

“Dustin told me you were getting married,” he says, just to break the silence. He knows that his thirty year old self was apparently aware of this fact, but Mark doesn’t see any reason to pretend right now. He’s already told Eduardo the truth, after all. 

Eduardo glances at him quickly with an unreadable expression. “In three weeks.” 

He pauses for a moment, considering what passes as polite in these situations. He doubts that criticising his decision to get married would be welcome even if they were friends, particularly when Mark isn’t sure why he’s so upset about it in the first place. Even in 2004, Eduardo was just his best friend. 

“What’s her name?” He asks, hoping he sounds like he actually cares about Eduardo’s fiancee, and that none of his annoyance comes through.

“_His _name is Jake.”

“Oh,” Mark says, because he’s not sure what to do with the revelation that Eduardo is into guys, or why the knowledge feels like a punch to the gut. It’s not as if he has any claim over him, and if he did, he lost it years ago, but that twisted and bitter feeling reappears. “Are you—”

“Gay? Yes,” he interrupts, meeting Mark’s eyes when he says it. There’s no shame there, just pride and a little bit of happiness, as well as something else he can’t quite read.

“Ok. So is Chris, and Dustin has a boyfriend, so that’s fine,” he replies, and his eyes narrow as Eduardo looks like he’s forcing back a smile. He shoves his hands in his pockets as a thought occurs to him. “What about your da—”

“My father doesn’t get to decide what I do with my life anymore,” Eduardo cuts him off again, and while Mark wants to celebrate that (he always hated Mr. Saverin and the way Eduardo would be anxious and withdrawn after he called), but Eduardo doesn’t seem entirely happy with the topic, so he keeps his mouth shut. “Mark, I know you didn’t call me out here so we could discuss my sexuality and my family. What do you want?” 

“Why aren’t we friends anymore?”

Eduardo stops in the street, and Mark halts beside him. A part of him doesn’t want to know what happened, but having this red mark on his almost-perfect life isn’t something he can ignore forever. He needs to know, if only so he can move on and get over it, and forget about Eduardo like he’s trying so hard to do. 

“You know, you could’ve just looked it up. Or asked _ anyone. _”

“I didn’t realise the details of our friendship were public knowledge.” Which is true, but Mark didn’t want to hear the story from Dustin or Sean or the internet, anyway. He wants to hear it from Eduardo.

“The details of our...of our relationship aren’t. The details of why it ended and what happened afterwards are.”

“I didn’t know there was a difference.”

Eduardo rubs a hand over his face, looking more exhausted than ever. “Okay. Are you sure you want to hear this? It wasn’t an easy time for us. For me, anyway.”

A part of Mark wants to say no, wants to ignore the disaster that ruined their relationship. But he doesn’t want to hear it from anyone else, and he knows that he won’t be able to fully enjoy this life while still in the dark about this. So he gives a quick nod, and Eduardo noticeably swallows before he begins to speak.

“The first few weeks after the initial launch were really good. Everyone forgave you for Facemash because you had created this awesome new thing instead, and I was so proud of you. Of us, of what we had founded together. Those two weeks were probably some of the best I’ve ever had. But after the site started to gain popularity, we began to fight about advertisers. I wanted to generate revenue, you thought it would ruin what thefacebook was. We just had small arguments at first, stupid fights we didn’t properly resolve because we were young and stupid. I think we probably could’ve figured something out eventually, or at least focused our energy on something else. Something more important.”

There’s something Mark can’t quite place in Eduardo’s tone at those last three words, like he means something outside of the company and advertisements. Before Mark can properly dwell on it or question it, Eduardo continues, though Mark isn’t sure he wants to hear where this is going.

“But then Sean Parker showed up,” Eduardo continues, spitting out Sean’s name like it was a disease, “And he was everything you wanted to be and told you everything you wanted to hear. He catered to every grand vision you had and convinced you to move out to California. I didn’t come out. I had an internship in New York, and then I was trying to find advertisers, and when I finally _ did _come out there...we had a fight. Things exploded, and I did something very childish.” 

He pauses after that, as if he doesn’t want to think about what happens next. The final nails in the coffin. A small part of Mark doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to know how things got so screwed up between them. But his curiosity wins out, and he nods at Eduardo to continue.

He takes a deep breath, then grimaces, “I froze the accounts. I’d set up one for you with $18,000 so you could rent a place, pay interns, and keep the servers running. But you weren’t listening to me, Sean had moved in and started bringing in underage girls and drugs, I was so angry. I kept giving you things, and I felt like you were just using me...so I froze the accounts. Which I know was insanely stupid to do, but I wanted to get your attention, and nothing else was working. I _ had _to get your attention, Mark.” 

Mark wants to look away, wants to break his staring contest with Eduardo, who’s eyes seem to have grown wet as the story went on. 

“And I did. You called me that night, berated me for what I did and I apologised, because I knew I had fucked up and I didn’t want to lose you. But then none of that seemed to matter. Because you told me that you had some good news. That we’d gotten a half a million dollars angel investment, and if I just signed the papers, everything would be fine, and bygones would be bygones and we could take the company to the next level. So I flew out to California, signed the papers, and I thought everything was good. You were acting like the old days, and inviting me to celebrate one million members when we reached it out, and everything felt right.”

Eduardo pauses, taking in a long shaky breath but he doesn’t break eye contact with Mark; just keeps staring him with his big, wet eyes.

“And things were good, for _ you _. But what you didn’t tell me that I was signing away all my shares in the company.”

Mark feels as if he’s been slapped.

“You pushed me out,” Eduardo says, and he still sounds so broken when he says it. “You diluted my shares to point zero three percent, had my name removed from the masthead, and you didn’t even care enough to tell me yourself. You invited me to the million members party, and you had the lawyers do it, like I wasn’t even worth a dismissal. You could humiliate me but you couldn’t be bothered to confront me about it. You made it pretty clear that I wasn’t worth your time, and you didn’t want me to be a part of Facebook, let alone your life.” 

Mark suddenly feels cold all over, and he almost wishes he never asked Eduardo for the truth about their broken relationship. He understands his own actions – if Eduardo had been a hazard to the company, if he hadn’t been listening, if he’d pulled a stunt that he himself admitted was childish – Mark can see why he did what he did. But he can’t imagine ever wanting Eduardo out of his life. Out of the company? Sure. But out of his life? Mark tries to picture how furious he would have been to think that way, and can’t fathom it. If it wasn’t for the way Eduardo is looking at him, and the evidence suggesting their lack of relationship in this time, he wouldn’t believe it. Eduardo’s his best friend, and Mark has never wanted to hurt him.

But he has. 

And Mark hates that he’s to blame for this, even if he can’t remember doing what he did. Even if he was doing the right thing for the company. 

“And that was it? Things between us just, what, _ ended _?”

“No. I sued you first. Six hundred million dollars. You settled.” He laughs darkly then, finally breaking eye contact with Mark to look at the sky, “Our lawyers would probably kill us if they knew we were talking.”

Briefly, Mark flashes back to his own Wikipedia page, and the section on lawsuits he had refused to read. This seems so much more significant than anything to do with the Winklevoss twins, more significant than anyone else who has ever had a problem with him.

“So now—”

“We see each other at events and meetings, but we avoid talking. When we do, it’s just polite small talk, and we deal with it as quickly as possible. It’s easier to pretend that we don’t know each other than acknowledge things and risk a screaming match.” He looks at Mark again, and his eyes are so sad that Mark wants to look away. “You really don’t remember any of this?” 

“No,” Mark says, trying to ignore the regret he feels over something he doesn’t even recall doing. “I didn’t live it.”

Eduardo frowns, and Mark knows he doesn’t trust him yet, that a part of him thinks Mark is doing this just to mess with him. He can’t blame Eduardo for that, given everything they’ve just discussed, and Mark feels a surge of annoyance towards his younger self, the one who did have Eduardo’s trust and broke it. He knows that _ his _ Eduardo would be doubtful and concerned but ultimately believe him, and put his own life on hold to help. This Eduardo looks like he won’t believe anything Mark says.

“Lucky you,” is all Eduardo says, and Mark can’t look at him any longer, can’t be here and listen to their horrible history that he doesn’t remember, can’t think about everything he did and the state Eduardo is in now. Because even if he can’t see the problem with what he did, he can’t deal with the knowledge that it hurt Eduardo this much. That it’s been ten years and he still can’t consider Mark an acquaintance, let alone a friend. 

He turns around and walks off down the street, head pounding.

Part of him expects Eduardo to be right behind him, two steps back and a step to the left like he usually is. Mark doesn’t wait for people, and he never needed to make sure Eduardo was with him anyway. He always was.

But there’s nothing behind him except and empty street. 

Eduardo didn’t follow him.

* * *

He buries himself in code over the next few days, trying to ignore all thoughts of Eduardo and what happened between them. He doesn’t want to start analysing the decisions he made, doesn’t want to start regretting something he doesn’t remember. He made his choice. He’s been living with it for years now, and Mark doesn’t want to think about what will happen if he starts questioning the life he has. His adult self has been functioning fine on his own, and Mark can learn to do the same. 

Several days into his coding binge, in which he ignores everyone and only eats when his staff place food directly in front of him, he gets forced into attending some charity gala by Natalie and the PR Guy Who Is Not Chris. They promise him that Dustin will be there and warn him to be on his best behaviour, respectively. It’s a small relief to know he hates black tie events regardless of his age and the year, if the way everyone ignores his complaints is anything to go by. 

Sean tags along, and it’s the first time Mark’s seen him since before Eduardo told him the story. He did some digging around afterwards, forced himself to read about the lawsuits and what happened to Eduardo after, and it wasn’t hard to find out about Sean’s cocaine and interns incident. It wasn’t hard to find out about Sean’s _ other _ assorted incidents, and he thinks he may have been too quick to dismiss Eduardo’s judgment that Sean was “bad news.”

Still, there has to be a reason Mark keeps him around, so he allows Sean to press champagne flutes into his hands and whisper comments about the various other guests. The other guests who don’t seem put off by Mark’s one word answers and confused greetings, and only seem slightly embarrassed when they praise him and receive a dead stare in return. 

“You’re always so charming, aren’t you?” Sean laughs in his ear, as they watch some CFO of a startup walk away, unfazed by Mark’s lack of knowledge in his company, as if he expected that. “The _ darling _ of the tech world.” 

“Oh, Mark’s perfectly likeable once you get to know him,” says a bright voice in his other ear, and Mark is suddenly greeted by Dustin flinging an arm around his shoulder, “Or if he deems you worthy of his time, anyway.”

Mark shrugs Dustin’s arm off, but he’s a welcome sight in this room of unfamiliar and unpleasant faces. He’s wearing a suit, like Mark, but he seems much more comfortable in it, and it strikes Mark again how _ old _they all are. A week ago, Dustin was nineteen and wearing a Harvard hoodie as he spun around on his desk chair, and now he’s thirty and in a suit at some gala event.

“Are _ you _ worthy of his time?” Sean asks, and it sounds more mean than playful, like Dustin is an annoying little brother instead of one of Mark’s closest and oldest friends. Mark feels a flare of annoyance in his chest; Dustin can be an idiot, but that doesn’t mean Sean has the right to talk down to him like that.

“He liked me enough to make me one of his website’s co-founders,” Dustin says brightly, but his smile seems a little fake. “And he’s bought me a few beers over the years. We’re fine.”

Sean rolls his eyes, “Whatever you say, man. I’m gonna get a drink.”

Dustin glares at Sean as he walks off, and even Mark feels a little irritated. He thinks of Eduardo’s bitterness whenever he was brought up, and wonders if everyone else in his life feels the same way. 

“Never got why you bring him to these things,” Dustin half-whispers as he takes on the role of Mark’s usher, leading him around the room. “He’s not very charitable.” 

Mark shrugs, “People have said the same about me.”

Dustin snorts, ruffling Mark’s hair. He still acts young enough that it’s a comfort to Mark, who is growing gradually tired of strangers and people who look at him with anger and heartbreak.

“While having your team picking charities for you and getting you to sign a cheque might not be the kind of donation that comes from the heart…” Dustin’s grinning as he begins to launch into what will either being a poor joke at Mark’s expense or an odd defence of his character, but he suddenly trails off and the smile falls off his face.

Mark follows his line of sight to a familiar figure across the room; tall and skinny with the most ridiculous hair. He’s talking to a man Mark doesn’t recognise (not that means much, as Mark doesn’t recognise most of the people he’s supposed to know), laughing at something the other man has said. He looks happier than he has the past two times Mark has seen him, but the smile slips from his face when he catches Mark looking at him.

“Sorry, dude, I had no idea that he was gonna be here,” Dustin mumbles, and Mark just nods. He wonders if Eduardo’s presence at these things is a regular occurrence, and how he usually deals with it. _ Polite small talk, _he remembers Eduardo saying.

Mark shrugs, “It’s fine.”

Mark has tried his best to avoid thinking about Eduardo since their conversation on the street, and he’s been somewhat successful. Thoughts about his face and his voice and his general presence in Mark’s 2004 life kept slipping in, but he hasn’t allowed himself to think about everything he said, about why they’re not friends anymore. If he started to dwell on it, Mark would just wire himself in again. Seeing him here is bringing the entire conversation back and he has nowhere he can hide, and he almost asks Dustin if they can just leave right this second. 

He doesn’t get a chance, because then Eduardo’s heading towards them, the man falling into step beside him. Mark can feel Dustin’s eyes on him, but he keeps watch of Eduardo, right up until they’re standing several metres apart.

“Mark, Dustin, hi,” he says, looking as surprised as Mark feels. He allows Dustin to give him a hug, but his eyes don’t leave Mark’s face. 

“Mark, this is Jake,” Eduardo says, indicating to the bearded man beside him, “My fiancee.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jake says, holding out his hand. Mark has a hard time believing that’s true if Eduardo has told him the full story, or even just the basic aspects of his personality, but he forces himself to shake the hand regardless, trying to ignore the press of Jake’s engagement ring (_ Eduardo asked him, _his brain tells him) against his hand.

“Hi,” he says, and kind of blinks at both of them for a second, half-expecting them to explain themselves to Mark. He knows that Eduardo no longer believes Mark deserves to know about his life, but Mark still feels entitled to it.

“I’m Dustin, but you knew that,” Dustin says in a poor attempt to curb the awkwardness, loud enough to draw the attention of a few guests around them. He takes Jake’s hands and shakes it eagerly. “It’s sweet I got to see Eduardo’s man again before the wedding.”

Mark feels himself frowning at the word _ wedding, _and Eduardo finally turns away from him to look at Jake laughing instead. He wants to say something so Eduardo will look at him again, but he’s never been good with words and he’s not sure what he wants to say either, so things fall into silence. Mark looking at Eduardo, Eduardo looking at Jake, Dustin shooting nervous looks between all three.

Just when he thinks things can’t get any worse, the last person this situation needs descends on the scene, slapping Mark’s shoulder as he settles beside him.

“I leave you for five minutes and you start having a little reunion,” Sean says, and Mark can hear the smirk in his voice. He’s still watching Eduardo though, who’s eyes narrow slightly as he straightens up. 

“Eduardo,” Sean says, and Mark suddenly feels himself growing irritated with the way Sean says his name. It feels wrong, like he’s tainting all three syllables. “Long time, no see.”

He sticks out a hand, and Dustin’s eyes are now darting furiously between the two. Jake looks worried, which makes Mark think he knows Eduardo less than he thinks. Because above all else, Eduardo is a gentleman, and isn’t going to punch someone at a charity event, even if he does hate the person in question.

He takes Sean’s hand and shakes it, quick and tight, forcing a smile onto his face. “Sean. How are your latest preneurs?” 

Eduardo sounds polite enough, and if Mark didn’t know him as well as he did, he’d almost believe he meant it. But he says it in that tone he uses when he’s feeling particularly passive-aggressive, the tone Eduardo uses when dealing with arrogant freshmen or teachers he hates. 

“Successful, as always. I gotta say, Eduardo, I’m surprised you came out here,” Sean sneers, “As I remember, Palo Alto wasn’t your scene. You used to refuse to come out to California, right?” 

Eduardo looks as if he’s been slapped, and Mark once again remembers their conversation a few nights ago. Eduardo had made it clear that he was still upset about everything that happened, that the wounds never quite healed, and even Mark can recognise what a low blow it was for Sean to bring that up. He wonders if this is the first time this has happened, or if Sean pulls similar, petty stunts whenever they’re all forced to interact with each other.

Mark suddenly feels very guilty and very annoyed, and he finally looks away from Eduardo to narrow his eyes at Sean.

“Sean,” he says. “Back off.”

He looks stunned, as this is the first time Mark’s ever told him off, and it probably is. Mark flicks his eyes away from him and locks them with Eduardo instead, who seems just as shocked. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room, and while there’s probably 200 more people here tonight, he feels like there’s nobody else except the two of them. Sean, Dustin, and Jake all fade away, and Mark wishes Eduardo would say something to him, forgive him or give him one of his bright smiles that made his eyes crinkle.

But he doesn’t. Because Mark doesn’t have the right to Eduardo’s forgiveness or his bright smiles, and he hasn’t for years now.

“There’s some people I want to introduce Jake to,” Eduardo grimaces, breaking the silence, and takes his fiancé’s hand. “But it was good to see you all.” 

Jake smiles at them too, and Mark’s good enough at spotting bullshit to know it’s not forced. “We’ll see you and the wedding, Dustin. It was nice meeting you, Mark.”

He even gives Sean a polite nod before he allows Eduardo to pull him away, and Mark’s mouth suddenly feels very dry. Sean is still glaring at him, and he can feel Dustin’s eyes on him, too. 

He ignores both of them and turns around, suddenly in desperate need of a drink.

He slips outside with two glasses of champagne, sitting on the hotel steps as he ignores the looks of guests and staff alike. He didn’t care about people’s judgement when he was nineteen and living off ramen noodles, and he doesn’t care about it now when he could buy and sell everyone here. There’s only one person who’s opinion he cares about, and that person is engaged to someone else and barely acknowledges his existence now.

As if on cue, he hears footsteps behind him. 

“Why did you do that?” Eduardo’s voice asks, and Mark turns to see him leaning against the doorway. He’s silhouetted against the light of the building behind him, and he’s alone. No Jake, Dustin, or Sean in sight.

Mark shrugs, because he doesn’t quite know the answer to that. It had just felt like the right thing to do, but now he’s not sure anymore. He doesn’t know if it did anything to help his situation with Eduardo or just damaged his relationship with Sean, and he feels out of his depth in a way that he’s not used to.

Eduardo shakes his head, and comes out into the night before sitting down next to Mark on the steps. He’s hesitant, and won’t look at him. Mark thinks back to what he said about how their lawyers would kill them for talking, and wonders how many times they’ve been alone together since they settled. He gets the sense that they’ve spent more time together in the past two weeks than they have in the past five years, and the thought makes his chest hurt in an unfamiliar way.

“You know,” Eduardo says, and his throat sounds scratchy when he speaks. “If you’d done that for me earlier, I might have stayed in Palo Alto that summer.”

“What? Stuck up to Sean?”

Eduardo nods. “I didn’t want to come out to you and do what you asked when I was only a second choice. You had Sean set up meetings, you were distant when we talked on the phone, you didn’t pick me up from the airport, you ignored my concerns, and allowed him to just...undermine me. I didn’t want to come out to be treated like that, just because you wanted me to be at your beck and call. It was exhausting.”

“Eduardo,” Mark starts, but he doesn’t know what to say that could possibly make all of this better. Words aren’t his strong point, and there’s so much he can’t say, things his actual adult self never said. It’s made even worse by the fact he doesn’t remember that summer, never lived it, and so he can’t consider all the things he should have done differently or what he can do to fix it now, all these years later. 

“It just felt like that all I ever did was give you what you wanted, and I never got anything in return. And it didn’t matter to me at first, but when you pushed me aside for _ Sean _ …” he trails off, swallows, and Mark feels a wave of annoyance towards his past self, the one who did all these things to Eduardo. “I didn’t want to have to give up my life just to _ fight _for your attention and love. Maybe it was a bad time for me to get petty and stand my ground, but I was so tired. All I ever wanted was for you to care about me, just a little.” 

Eduardo waits for a moment, as if he expects something – an apology, maybe. But Mark can’t give him that. Maybe the real thirty year old Mark should, but he’s only nineteen and he doesn’t want to apologise for something he never did. When Mark doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, Eduardo shakes his head, before getting up to leave.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair on Mark, forced to deal with the consequences of choices he never made. He’s not sure if he disagrees with everything his older self has said and done, but at least he had the knowledge and experience to make those choices. Mark doesn’t have even that, just ten and a half years of nothing.

And it’s not fair to Eduardo. Eduardo didn’t ask for any of this either, and having the memory of what happened seems to make things worse for him. Mark’s not an idiot; he knows he’s smarter than most people and deserves everything he’s worked for, but he knows Eduardo is a better person than him in most other aspects. He’s solid and reliable and _ cares _about people. He cares about Mark, even after everything that’s happened. He cares enough to at least consider that Mark is telling the truth, and relive difficult moments just to help him out. He cares enough to meet up with him late and night and walk through the streets of Palo Alto with him, just because Mark said that he needed him.

And Mark blames this whole experience for making him feel this way, for making him feel guilty for the things he never said. Because he’s always enjoyed Eduardo’s company and has always wanted him to be happy. He never voiced it before, he never saw the point, but he doesn’t want Eduardo looking at him like that anymore. Like Mark had everything Eduardo ever wanted, and he just took it all away. 

“I did,” he blurts out, because Mark isn’t going to lie and say he’s sorry when he’s not, but he thinks there are some truths Eduardo deserves to hear. Because Mark always cared about him. Maybe he didn’t show it as well as he should have, but it doesn’t make it any less true. “Care about you, I mean. I still do.”

Eduardo pauses, turning back to face him. Mark feels the pang in his gut that is becoming uncomfortably familiar, the one he associates with the sad and confusing looks that Eduardo gives him. 

“I’ve waited a long time for you to say that,” he says finally, giving Mark a weak smile, “I can’t believe you had to get amnesia to come out with it.”

“It’s not amnesia,” Mark says stubbornly, “And it doesn’t change the sentiment. I can’t explain or apologise for what happened between us, because I don’t recall the event or the circumstances leading up to it. But I know I care about you.” 

Eduardo stares at him for several moments, before he nods his head, just once. “Goodnight, Mark.”

Mark sits there by himself in the dark night, half regretting he opened up that way and half wishing he did it sooner. He heads back inside after about twenty minutes, still processing what Eduardo told him. He’d never considered the possibility that Eduardo didn’t know he cared about him – sure, he wasn’t one to spill his guts, but he had always just assumed Eduardo knew. He had always understood Mark better than anyone, knew his needs before he did. Mark never had to explain things to him because Eduardo just _ knew _, but maybe things weren’t as obvious as he’d thought. Maybe they’d still be friends if he’d figured that out sooner.

He’s barely rejoined the gala when Sean storms up to him, dragging him just out of earshot of other guests.

“What was that all about?” Sean asks, and there’s an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. Mark resists the urge to tell him to fuck off, starting to think that Eduardo might have had a point. Sean isn’t nearly as bright and gleaming as he was a week ago, and Mark finds it hard to reconcile _ this _guy with the one that had told him he was at the prime of his life with a wide grin. 

“You were being a dick,” he shrugs him off. “Eduardo didn’t deserve that.” 

“Eduardo didn’t deserve that?” Sean mocks, letting out a mean laugh. “You’re going to take the moral high ground _ now _?” 

“You were always kind of shitty to him,” Mark says, because he wasn’t there but he knows that it’s true, and he doesn’t want to think about the implications of Sean’s words.

Sean’s eyes flash. “It’s just fun. And it never mattered before.”

“It matters now,” Mark snaps, glaring up at Sean. “I don’t know why you have to rub in what you did. Just leave him alone. It’s been ten fucking years, and it’s not fair to him.”

“What _ I _ did? Has turning thirty caused you to have a midlife crisis?” Sean demands. “Or come down with amnesia? _ You _ were the one that got Eduardo to sign those papers. _ You’re _ the one that virtually ignored him for years. _ You _ were his friend. _ Wardo _doesn’t expect kindness from me, and he never did.”

_ He expected it from you _, Mark hears, even though Sean doesn’t say anything else, just stalks off. Mark’s left alone for the second time that night, all because of his own words and actions; ones from a decade ago, and ones from tonight. He doesn’t want to think about any of it anymore.

Dustin finds him about an hour or so later, where Mark’s been drinking champagne flutes and avoiding other guests to deal with what Eduardo and Sean said to him. Neither of them are anywhere in sight, and he’s thankful for that. He doesn’t know what to say anyone anymore, doesn’t want to hear more about what a horrible friend he is.

“Shit,” Dustin laughs, snatching a glass out of Mark’s hand as he looks at him slumped against the ballroom wall, “You haven’t gotten this drunk at a gala since 2009.”

Mark remembers what he read about his lawsuit with Eduardo, and doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that 2009 was the year they settled.

Neither of them comment on it though, and Mark allows Dustin to drag him away from the event and into a waiting town car, and doesn’t even fight it when Dustin does his seatbelt with a laugh. He feels ridiculous, needing someone to look after him like this, but it’s comforting to know that he has at least one friend that will still do it for him.

“Did we used to do this?” he asks, because he’s drunk enough that he’s willing to ask about things he should already know, and Dustin’s unlikely to question him further anyway. “Drink at events together. Try and make this shit fun.”

Dustin grins. “Fuck yeah. They were still boring, especially when we were still kids, and Chris would still make us dress up, but it would be worth it to get crossfaded in your backyard after. We weren’t even twenty-five and we were living the dream. 

It’s so simple; barely any different to what they’d do at Kirkland after ditching shitty dorm parties, minus the fancy suits. But he feels a deep yearn for his early days as a billionaire, in his early twenties with two of his good friends by his side. There’s so much he never got to experience.

It’s no comfort to realise that Eduardo wouldn’t have been with them to _ live the dream. _

Mark simultaneously feels nineteen and much, much older than thirty. He’s been forced to live a decade of his life in less than two weeks, and there’s so much he still doesn’t understand. Mark’s not used to not understanding things, and it annoys him. 

“Dustin?”

“Yeah?

“We’re friends, right?” Mark asks, and he feels kind of childish and stupid for saying it, but he’s drunk enough and hurt enough from his conversations with Eduardo and Sean that he’s allowing himself this bit of vulnerability. It’s not like being closed off has gotten him that far in this new life.

“Of course we are,” he laughs, reaching over and squeezing Mark’s shoulder, “I don’t ditch galas to get into town cars with drunk strangers.”

“Why?” he asks, because the more he learns about his new self the less he likes him, and it seems like others feel the same. “You said I don’t even call that often. I don’t know anything about your life. And Eduardo hates me.”

Dustin winces at the name, but he reaches his hand back up to Mark’s shoulder, and doesn’t let go this time. 

“Eduardo could never hate you. He’s hurt, but he doesn’t hate you. And neither do I. Just cause you can be a jerk and we’re not close anymore doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You must be pretty drunk, man. Usually I’m the one that needs reassurance from you.” 

Despite Dustin’s best intentions, the comment makes him feel worse, and he swallows thickly. He thinks about everyone’s confusion when he told Sean to leave Eduardo alone, the fact he’d apparently been letting those snide comments slide for the past ten years.

For the first time in a long time, Mark feels bad for the things he’s said and done, and he knows it’s not just the alcohol talking. Calling Erica Albright a bitch was one thing, but hurting Eduardo, allowing Sean to walk over him, and ignoring his other friends is something else entirely. He’d never understood why some people insisted on being friends with him, but he’s never felt so undeserving of any of it.

“You’re a good friend, Dustin,” he mumbles, a half-hearted attempt to dodge the miserable thoughts running through his head. “You always have been. I’m not.”

Dustin just squeezes Mark’s shoulder in response.

* * *

Mark wakes up early the next morning with a dry mouth, a horrible headache, and a pain in his chest that he knows isn’t alcohol related. He keeps replaying the night before in his head, and for the first time since he got here, he wants nothing more than to be nineteen again. To go back to when Facebook wasn’t something huge yet but was going to be, and Mark still had Eduardo in his life.

He lays there for awhile, staring up at the ceiling. He never thought he’d wish for the days when he’d be looking up at the grimy dark roof of the Kirkland dorm, listening to the sounds of Chris and Dustin arguing outside. But everything he suddenly feels so underwhelming, because he wants twenty-one year old Eduardo to show up with food and drinks and all his time and love to give.

It’s the sudden need for love and normalcy which causes him to arrange a trip out to Dobbs Ferry to see his parents. It’s not as if he barely speaks to them or doesn’t care for them – his mother calls often enough that Eduardo, Chris, and Dustin will know happily answer the phone and talk to her – but he’s never gone to them in a crisis or talked about his feelings. 

He figures if there’s any time to change that, it’s now. 

So he books the earliest flight out and a return for late afternoon tomorrow, and finds himself sitting in a first class seat before his hangover has cured. He sleeps fitfully on the flight, wondering if he should have told someone or warned his parents in advance about his trip in his waking moments. But he’s already made his decision and he doubts anyone will notice his absence, given that it’s a weekend and his personal assistant seems to be the only one that regularly checks up on him. Being reminded of this just brings back all those bad feelings and he tries to force himself back to sleep, though he hardly succeeds. 

When they land he realises he hasn’t properly thought out how to talk top his parents without the revealing the truth, and he spends the entire hour long cab ride from LaGuardia to his childhood home trying to work it out. He hasn’t gotten anywhere by the time they pull up, and he considers asking the driver to take him to the airport just as he sees his mother step out the front door.

He forces himself to stay silent, pay the driver, and get out of the cab, forcing a smile for his approaching mother. She pulls him into a tight hug before the cab has even pulled away, commenting on how long it’s been since she’s seen him.

Mark doesn’t say anything to that, because he saw her during winter break, but he doesn’t want to know the last time his adult self visited.

“How long are you here for?” She asks, looking at him up and down, probably considering how much mothering she can fit in before he goes back to California.

“Just the weekend,” he shrugs, and his mother shakes his head in disbelief, but Mark can’t be here any longer than that. His novelty with the rest of his adult life is starting to wear off, but his fascination and admiration of Facebook is still as strong as ever, and he doesn’t want to be away from it for too long. Also, he doesn’t want to risk the idea of his mother figuring out that he’s not exactly the son she knows, and figures a quick trip is the best way to avoid any suspicion.

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to make the best of the time we have,” she smiles, and ushers him inside. 

His father gives him a quick hug when he spots him, and Mark has to stop himself from frowning when he notices how grey his dad has gotten. His parents look older than he remembers, which shouldn’t be a surprise, given that they’re ten years older than when he last saw them. But it reminds him of how much he’s missed, all the memories and moments he can’t get back, and he suddenly wishes he could stay here for as long as possible.

“You’re fine to stay in your old room, right?” His mother asks as she leads him upstairs. Mark just nods, turning to his father, who grins at him.

“We’re not like you in your big house, Mark,” he lets out half a laugh, and Mark makes himself give a half hearted smile back, “We don’t have five unused guest rooms ready to go for when our children turn up.”

“I could buy you a bigger place,” he tells them, thinking of all the money he now has, but his mother just lets out a laugh in response.

“You’ve offered before, sweetie, and the answer is still the same,” she tells him, “We like this place, and all the memories it has. We raised you kids here, and that’s more important than any fancy thing you could possibly buy us.” 

“Besides, we’d prefer you visiting more over you throwing your money at us,” his father interrupts, and his mother shushes him, but Mark thinks there’s some truth there. 

His childhood room, which has clearly been scarcely touched after he graduated, is now filled with storage boxes, and his parents have to clear a path so he can get to the bed.

“We usually clean up a little when we have guests over,” his father informs him, “But you showed up unannounced, so we’ll have to make do.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, “I’m just sleeping for one night.”

“First time you’ve visited us in nearly two years and it’s only for one night,” his father sighs “Ridiculous.”

“Edward,” his mother warns, “Mark’s very busy.” 

His father winks at him with a grin, but Mark can’t ignore the guilt that’s spreading throughout him.

The guilt is why is he allows his mother to ask him a hundred questions about his work and health and eating habits, and he tries to answer them as best he can with his limited knowledge. Mark’s vague answers and disinterest in most areas of his life seems to be working in his favour, as she doesn’t seem to notice anything different about him shrugging and giving one word responses to most things unrelated to Facebook. It’s why he sits on the couch with his dad and watches sports while listening to updates about dentistry, even though both are subjects he has never cared for. It’s why he is reluctant to go upstairs and wash up like his mother tells him to do so before dinner, suddenly feeling like he’s leaving them all over again. 

It's weird to be back in his old home, his old room. Mark knows he was only here recently, came back from winter break and locked himself in his room to work on thefacebook for as long as his mother would allow. But he gets the feeling that his thirty year old self ignores his family as much as he ignores his few friends, and it makes him feel old and out of place.

His fears are confirmed when he gets called down for dinner, and an awkwardness that Mark has never experienced with his family settles over the table. Now that the pleasantries have passed, he’s aware of how little he can share about himself and how his parents don’t seem to know what to tell him.

His parents don't ask him about any friends or significant others, even though his mother used to ask about Eduardo, Dustin, and Chris whenever she called and seemed disappointed when things ended with Erica. They're as used to Mark's lack of a social life and interest in others as everybody else is, and it hurts more than he expected. 

It’s even worse to hear about everything he hasn’t been around for in the last decade, and not just because he only knows his life up until age nineteen. There’s so much he wasn’t physically or emotionally present for, and his parents keep exchanging glances whenever they talk about holiday moments and family memories that even his actual thirty year old self wouldn’t know about. Mark’s never been big on sentimentality or tradition, but even he expected better of himself when his mother reminds him that he still hasn’t met his six month old nephew.

She must have noticed something on his face, because she quickly rushes to reassure him, “We all know you have a lot going on with the company, and everything. But your sisters really would like to see you.”

“I’m going to try,” he says, because he can’t change what his adult self has done but he can attempt to fix it. “Not just with them, but with you guys, too.”

His parents smile at him and nod, and he wonders if he’s made a promise like that before. Mark’s never thought of himself as the greatest person in the world, contrary to popular belief. He knew he was smarter than most people and didn’t care to hide it, but he wasn’t self obsessed, nor was he ignorant of certain parts of himself he needed to work on.

But he’s never disliked himself as much as he does in this moment, with the knowledge of what he’s done to Eduardo, the disregard for his other friends, and the implications of the things his parents are telling him.

He helps his mother with the dishes in silence, while Mark tries to think of things to say to make things feel comfortable and normal again. But he comes up blank, and spends the rest of the night wondering how he messed things up so bad with everyone in his life. He thought his trip out here would clear his head, but he doesn’t know how to bring up everything that’s happened. It seems too hard to admit unprompted, and doesn’t want to see the look in his mother’s eyes that would come from saying _ I fucked up. I wish it was still 2004 and I could still fix everything. _ Even when they hug him goodnight, he still feels lost and confused, and gets about as much sleep in his old bed than he did on a five hour plane ride.

He goes downstairs at what he figures is a reasonable hour, knowing he looks terrible but not caring. It’s not like he needs to look good in his family home, and he has bigger concerns anyway.

His mother is in the kitchen when he gets there, and she smiles at him before gesturing him to sit at the table. He does as asked, allowing her to treat him like he did when he’d visit during college breaks.

“I’m glad we got a moment between just the two of us,” she says, busying herself with the coffee maker, “I wanted to ask you if everything was okay.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I know my kids, honey. I can tell that something’s bothering you, and I know this wasn’t just a visit for fun.”

Mark bites the inside of his mouth, wondering how much he should tell her. This is the opening he’s been waiting for, the chance to get advice from the one woman he trusts more than anyone, even if he can’t tell her the full story. The fact that he’s nineteen years old and just woke up here one day is out of the question; Mark doesn’t want to share it with _ anyone _besides Eduardo, and he can’t imagine what his psychologist mother would say to that.

He considers telling her about his fractured relationship with Eduardo and how it’s hurting him to see it like that. But he doesn’t know if they’ve broached the topic before, and how his mother even feels about it. His mother had liked Eduardo, once, when they met briefly when Mark’s parents visited him. Afterwards, she had called him kind and handsome and polite. Mark remembers rolling her eyes at her, thinking nothing of it. _ Everyone _liked Eduardo. Mark was the one people tended to dislike.

But Eduardo had liked him. Eduardo’s eagerness had confused Mark at first; Chris and Dustin liked him, sure, but they were his roommates. They had to spend time with Mark, regardless of if they wanted to or not, and he was just lucky that it worked in his favour. Eduardo chose to spend time with him and follow his around, and he’d never known what to do with someone who liked him so genuinely and openly. Now, he wonders if he maybe took that for granted. If he’s still taking it for granted, back in 2004, back before he woke up here.

He doesn’t know if it would hurt more to find out his mother no longer liked Eduardo or still did despite what her son did to him. So he avoids any specifics entirely, trying to be as honest as he can without revealing himself. 

“Do you ever wonder if you made the right choice?” He asks, staring down at the table instead of looking up at her.

“With what?”

“Just,” he swallows, “when you’ve had huge decisions to make, and you thought you picked the right one but maybe you didn’t. But it might be too late to fix it and do the right thing.” 

He can feel his mother’s eyes on him, and he finally looks up to find her frowning at him, and he wonders if she’s figured out who and what situation they’re talking about.

“Mark, there’s always going to be things you can’t change, and can’t fix. You can try. But there’s no guarantee things will work out the way you want. You can’t always tie things up with a nice little bow.”

“I don’t like leaving things unfinished and broken,” he admits, but he doesn’t even know if that’s true for him anymore; at least when it comes to people and relationships, if Eduardo’s forced smile and cold eyes are anything to go by, his adult self had seemed fine with leaving that unfinished and broken, even if it was just out of pride.

“I’m not used to regretting things,” he adds, and his mother lets out a snort.

“Oh, I know that,” she replies, abandoning the coffee to sit across from him. “But that’s a part of growing up. You look back and realise that you should have done something differently, or not at all, or you should’ve taken the leap when you didn’t. But you can’t let yourself drown in past mistakes. Just try not to make them again.” 

“How do you know what can’t be fixed and what just needs time?” 

His mother smiles at him, reaching out to run a hand through his curls. “You’ve always been smart, sweetie. You’ll figure it out.”

“Let’s hope so,” he replies, but the pain in his chest has weakened somewhat.

He goes back to Palo Alto that afternoon, after promising his parents he’ll visit for Thanksgiving this year. Apparently he’s skipped out on the last few, always using work as an excuse. Mark’s not big on holidays, and he’s not big on family affection, but he wants to change that. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to go back to being nineteen again, and he wants to fix the mistakes he’s made as an adult.

* * *

There’s a bunch of emails waiting for him when he gets into Facebook HQ on Monday, mainly work related stuff and some questionable links from Dustin. He scans them all with disinterest, figuring that if anything super important came up, Natalie would tell him. He’s about to shut his email client when a new one pops through, and the sender makes Mark’s heart jump into his throat.

**To** : [ markzuckerberg@facebook.com ](mailto:markzuckerberg@facebook.com)

**From**: esaverin@gmail.com

**Subject**: About that night

_ Mark, _

_ I’m sorry I left on such an uncomfortable note. It didn’t seem fair to leave Jake alone while we dealt with our complicated history, but I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate what you said to Sean, and what you said after. _

_ I hope you’re doing well despite your interesting circumstances. _

_ Eduardo Saverin _

Mark stares at the email, reading it over and over again, half expecting the words to change or the email to disappear entirely in front of his eyes. It was the first time Eduardo had voluntarily reached out to him since he had woken up here, and Mark has no idea what he was supposed to do about it.

He’s never been good with feelings or problems that aren’t related to code, and he’s always avoided dealing with them whenever possible. The few times he couldn’t (a fight with Erica when he forgot her birthday, that time Eduardo came back from visiting his parents and the light in his eyes seemed a little dimmer), he’d had to seek out advice for the proper thing to do or say. He’d cared about fixing those things back then (which is hilarious, given how badly things had ended between both Erica and Eduardo), and he cares about trying to fix this now. But he still doesn't entirely grasp the situation and he doesn’t know what he _ can _say, so he reaches out to the person that could help him best (after Eduardo, anyway). 

He calls Chris.

“Mark,” Chris says by way of greeting, and he doesn’t quite hide the surprise in his voice. Mark doesn’t know how to feel about that, doesn’t know if he should be offended or concerned that someone he’s used to seeing every day doesn’t expect to hear from him. 

“Chris,” Mark says, and doesn’t quite know how to ask what he needs to ask, so he drily adds, “Dustin seems to think I don’t call you enough.” 

Chris laughs, but Mark thinks of how shocked he sounded when he answered the phone, and thinks Dustin might have a point. Which is the scariest factor of this entire experience so far. 

“He did text me right after your lunch date to say something similar, and I had to remind him that I’m not your mother, just an occasional friend and former publicist. Though you should probably call your parents more often, too.”

“I saw them the other day,” Mark says defensively, trying not to dwell on _ occasional friend _ and Chris hums his approval.

“Maybe you are growing up,” Chris says. “Visiting your parents, getting lunch with Dustin, and—” 

“Speaking to Eduardo,” he interrupts, because it’s technically true, even if they’ve just had three incredibly tense and confusing conversations, and now an email he can’t work out how to respond to.

Chris is quiet for a few seconds, and Mark applauds himself for apparently shocking him into silence. Chris usually has a smart response for everything, or at least some kind of snobby insult.

“You’ve been doing _ what? _” Chris demands, suddenly remembering how to speak. All previous traces of humour are gone from his voice, and Mark winces.

“I’ve been speaking to Eduardo,” he repeats, “And I needed to ask you some things.” 

“Since _ when _have you been speaking to Eduardo?”

“Two weeks. We’ve had a few conversations.”

“So now you’re calling me for the first time in months to ask about him?”

Mark shrugs, even though he knows Chris can’t see it. “Yes. Is that bad?” 

“It’s rude,” Chris says, in the same tone he uses when Mark makes an offhand comment about the pointlessness of a history degree or insults one of his boyfriends. “But nothing less than I expected from you.” 

It’s the kind of comment that wouldn’t have hurt Mark if this was still 2004 and they were having this conversation back at Kirkland. He’s not ignorant to the fact he’s an asshole; enough people have told him as much, and just because his friends liked him didn’t mean they always got on. But everything he’s heard about himself in the last few weeks has made these kinds of comments hit harder than usual, and he can’t help but wince. 

Chris, however, has always been more empathetic and apologetic than him, and seems to sense that there’s something wrong with Mark’s silence. “Look. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” Mark cuts him off, because he doesn’t want his apology, nor does he think he deserves it. “What I’m going to say next is probably going to be rude too, so there’s no point making excuses for me.”

He hears a snort on the on the other end of the line, “Okay. Go ahead.”

“I need to ask you about what happened after I,” he pauses, swallows, and closes his eyes, “After Eduardo’s shares were diluted.”

Chris doesn’t say anything, and Mark decides that’s probably as much permission to continue as he’s going to get, so he forces himself to speak before he gets too embarrassed and backs out.

“When Eduardo and I...when he left. Why did you pick me?”

There’s still silence on the end of the line for several moments, and Mark wonders if they’ve ever actually discussed this. Whether his old self didn’t care or just didn’t want to deal with the answers, he’s not sure.

When Chris does speak again, he sounds careful and hesitant. “I didn’t _ pick _ you. You were both still my friends, and there was Facebook—”

“You could’ve stayed on without being my friend. Our new PR guy isn’t my friend.”

“It’s not that simple,” Chris replies, but he sounds softer now. Mark pinches his nose, because he doesn’t want pity, he wants answers, but he’s finding it increasingly difficult to get people to relay information he should already know. “We’d been good friends for years, Mark. I wasn’t going to just cut you out like that.”

_ Like I did with Eduardo, _Mark thinks, and he wants to know when his own mind joined the group of people out to get him and make him feel guilty.

“But weren’t you pissed?” He asks instead of dwelling on the thought.

“I _ was _pissed. Or did you forget that I refused to speak to you on non-PR related issues for six weeks after Dustin told me what happened?” It’s kind of a punch in the gut to Mark, because he didn’t forget. But he didn’t experience that, and it hurts in a way Mark never expected to find out that nobody wanted anything to do with him for a time. Except Sean, but that thought isn’t as comforting as it would have been a week ago.

“Right,” Mark replies, because he can’t think of anything else to say. He’s found that becoming increasingly common given his current situation, and he hates every moment of it. “Then why did you stop being mad? Eduardo’s still angry.”

“Eduardo was the one you hurt,” Chris reminds him, and his tone is kind even if the words aren’t. “And when I finally visited the offices, there was...something off about you. It killed any anger I had left towards you. I knew that you needed me as a friend, and that ignoring you wasn’t going to do any good.” 

“Something off,” he repeats.

Chris sighs. “I think you regretted what you did, or at least the way you handled it. But you weren’t quite ready to admit that to yourself. I’m not quite sure you ever did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mark, it’s not an attack,” Chris says, and Mark pictures him as the college kid he remembers – blond haired and a Harvard sweater and the face of someone four years younger. “You’re just always convinced you’re right and refuse to consider why people think you’re wrong. That doesn’t bode well for relationships or personal growth.”

Mark understands how awful this must all sound, to be thirty years old and still unsure of why he feels guilty about something he did a decade ago. He hopes that the actual thirty year old Mark, the one that has lived through all this, has figured it out, but he’s starting to think less and less of him.

“Did you ever see him at Harvard?” he asks instead of pursuing that line of thought, because he still doesn’t know how to handle a situation he doesn’t even remember causing, still doesn’t know what to make of the person he became.

“Mark…” 

“_Chris _.” 

“Are you going to tell me why you’re suddenly interested in reliving things that were painful for all of us?” 

“No, I’m just confused.”

He’s quiet again, then lets out a deep sigh. “Yes. We spoke a few times, but he made it clear he couldn’t be around me just then. I think he also thought I was choosing sides. I didn’t like it, but the least I could do was give him some space.”

“You two didn’t have to stop being friends with him just because he decided to stop being friends with me,” Mark tells him, because that’s as close to an apology as he’ll allow.

Chris seems to understand this. “I know. But you needed us too.”

He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve Dustin and Chris, who still seem to love him and care about him despite everything. Even now, when they both claim that he barely makes any effort to maintain their friendship, they’re willing to be there for him and hear him out. 

“Until I didn’t anymore,” he says, thinking of the distance that’s grown between them, the one that he’s to blame for. 

“I don’t think you ever stopped needing us. If anything, I think that’s why you pushed us away. You never liked needing people, so you kicked them out and keep your distance to prove that you could survive on your own.”

Mark thinks about Eduardo and_ I need you _, how quickly Eduardo had given him what he asked for. That had felt fine, but he figures that’s because it wasn’t Eduardo he’d asked for, just the algorithm he needed to hurt a bunch of other people. But Eduardo had still obliged despite his initial objections, which seems like so much more in hindsight.

“It was still kind of a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, absolutely. But you’ve always had your flaws and we’ve always loved you despite them,” Chris says, and he sounds so soft that it makes Mark a little uncomfortable.

“You don’t sound as mad as I thought you would,” he admits, hoping he can provoke Chris into anger or amusement so they can move on from all this sad, emotional talk about friendship.

“Mark, getting annoyed at everything you did was only worth it when I was your publicist. At least back then I could channel it into something productive.”

Mark snorts, and he hears Chris let out a small laugh on the other end.

“Enough reminiscing on the past, though,” Chris says, and Mark can’t tell if it’s to spare him more upsetting details or because Chris doesn’t want to relive those years. “More on the current state of your relationship with Eduardo. What brings the sudden change?” 

“I’m surprised Dustin didn’t tell you what happened.”

“He sent me several texts about how ‘_ the unbelievable has happened Chris oh my god _,’” Chris says drily, “but refused to elaborate as it wasn’t his story to tell.” 

“That’s a first,” he mutters, and when Chris doesn’t respond, he adds, “I told Sean to back off from Eduardo.”

Chris is shocked into silence for the second time in five minutes, which has to be a record of some kind. Mark files it away to use as bragging rights when he’s more equipped to deal with the present situation.

“Well. I don’t think any of us ever expected that.” 

“Because Sean’s my one friend?” he asks. Chris and Dustin seem to consider themselves as such, but Mark knows it’s because of their loyalty to the Mark-that-was, and the Mark-that-could’ve-been, not the Mark-that-is. He can’t help but think that he probably doesn’t deserve it. 

“The only friend you seem to talk to, at any rate.” 

“I’m working on that. With you, and Dustin, and—“ he cuts himself off, because he can’t really put Eduardo in the friends category anymore, even if he still sees him as his best friend.

Chris, despite having what Mark considers a completely useless degree, isn’t _ actually _ stupid and knows who he means and what he’s really saying.

“I don’t know if you and Eduardo can repair what you had. But I think him reaching out is a good sign,” he says gently.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits. “That’s why I called.”

“I can’t help you fix this,” Chris replies “This is between you and Wardo. You two need to actually have a healthy conversation for once. Talk about what happened and why you did what you did and what you want from him now.”

“That’s your advice? Talk about it? I talked to him all the time back at Harvard and that didn’t change anything.”

Chris snorts. “_ Talking _ was the one thing the two of you never did. Not the conversations you needed to have, anyway. You avoided certain topics until you couldn’t and things blew up between you both. So if you want to fix things now, it’s probably your best option. I can’t promise you that he’ll forgive you and he’ll be your friend again. But you need to give him _ something _if you want to make a start.”

Mark thinks of all the things the two of them have supposedly left unsaid, the stuff thirty year old Mark shoved away and ignored. The stuff he thinks about now, about how the idea of not having Eduardo in his life scares him, makes him question so much about this future. He thinks about the Eduardo he knows, twenty-one years old and bright and eager to please, and he’s growing uncomfortable with the knowledge that there’s a lot Mark never said to him either. Things he should have said when he had the chance. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, because he knows Chris is right but he doesn’t want to admit it, and anything he says on the topic is stuff Eduardo needs to hear.

“Um, happy anniversary, by the way. To you and Sean. _ Your _Sean,” he says after a moment, wanting to move on from talking about his relationships and his feelings.

Chris laughs, and if Mark closes his eyes, he can pretend they’re back at Kirkland and just watched Dustin lose spectacularly in Mario Kart. He didn’t think he’d ever miss that, but with each day he finds himself wishing more and more that he could go back to being nineteen again. 

“It was a month ago. But thanks.”

They fall into silence again, but it’s more comfortable than awkward. Chris, for all his nagging and snobbery, has always been easy to get on with. Mark’s never been good at making or keeping friends, but Chris tolerated him for the near two years they’ve known each other in Mark’s life, and has apparently stuck by him ever since.

“Mark?” 

“What?”

“It’s nice to hear from you when you’re not being an asshole. I don’t often agree with Dustin, but you _ should _call more often.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, and he means it. If he’s going to be stuck here, he doesn’t see the point in throwing away one of the few solid relationships he’s managed to keep, even if he never tried to.

After Chris rings off, making a remark about he _ actually _ has work to do, Mark stares at his phone for awhile. He isn’t used to thinking about his words, because he knows he’s usually right regardless of what he says. But this approach hasn’t always gone well with people, and Mark _ needs _for this conversation with Eduardo to go well.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. He thinks about what Chris said about them leaving so much unsaid, what his mother said about how things can’t always be fixed but he can always try.

He opens his eyes and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he finds the recently updated one filed under _ Eduardo _. He hesitates for a moment, but then remembers that the man in question reached out first this time. He hits dial, and the phone rings for what feels like an eternity but is barely five seconds before it picks up, and Mark lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

“Mark,” Eduardo says, and he doesn’t sound surprised to hear from him. “Hi.”

“I got your email,” Mark replies, and after a beat, adds, “You didn’t need to say sorry.”

“No, I guess not,” he laughs a little, but it’s warm for once; not the cold, hard laugh that Mark’s come to expect from this Eduardo. “But I don’t see the harm in apologising.”

Mark wonders if this is partially directed at him and everything he’s yet to say sorry for, or if it’s just Eduardo genuinely being nice. He doesn’t want to consider the first option, doesn’t know if he’s ready to acknowledge what went wrong and have that conversation just yet. He knows Chris is probably right and they need to have a proper talk, but not now. First he needs to know if there’s a chance to repair things in the first place. 

“Are we–” he pauses, swallows, and tries again. “Are we okay?”

Eduardo’s silent for minute, and Mark almost thinks he’s hung up on him.

“I don’t know yet,” he admits quietly. “I just know that I didn’t want to be mad at you for something you haven’t done yet. Or don’t remember doing. It didn’t seem fair.”

“So you believe me?” he asks, because while Eduardo’s distrust has been understandable, it hasn’t made the situation any less frustrating, and having the one person he’s told believe him is bound to make things easier. 

“I think so. I don’t know why I do, but I also don’t see why you’d lie about something like this. Even if you wanted to hurt me, it seemed too childish. Your line of attack is more brutal honesty to the face, not overly complicated pranks.”

“Took you long enough,” he grumbles. He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth; Eduardo’s only just started willingly speaking to him again, and he doesn’t want to blow it right away by being a snarky asshole. He closes his eyes and waits for Eduardo to reprimand him or make a callous comment or even hang up, but finds himself opening them wide when the only thing that comes through the phone is Eduardo’s laughter.

“Next time a former friend shows up at my door and claims to be from the past, I’ll make sure I believe them right away,” Eduardo replies, but he seems lighter than he has in a long time.

“What changed your mind?” He asks, wondering if the shift came that night at the gala or Eduardo always kinda believed him and just claimed otherwise. 

“My Mark...the Mark from our time never listened to me,” he says, and he sounds quiet. “Even before things went wrong, he didn’t want to hear me talk about Sean or my life outside of him. I suppose that you’re still that Mark, but you’ve done more in these past few weeks than he’s done in ten years.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel ignored. Back then, I mean,” he says, staring down at his laptop keys. “I appreciated your presence, and maybe I could have tried harder to make sure you were aware of that but—”

“You’re trying now,” he interrupts, but he sounds kind. “That counts.”

Mark knows he doesn’t deserve Eduardo’s continued love and kindness, even if he does believe Mark’s story. He knows that if the roles were reversed, that if Eduardo hurt him and showed up on his doorstep claiming to be twenty-one, that he’d slam the door in his face and never acknowledge him again. Mark doesn’t hate people easily, but he can hold a grudge, and he trusts people so rarely that he’d never give it back to someone that broke it. For the first time in his life, he’s really, truly grateful for how forgiving and kind Eduardo is.

“I want to keep trying,” he admits, running his hands over his keyboard. “Actually listen to you this time. And now just when it’s beneficial to me.”

Eduardo lets out a laugh, but it’s brief and half-hearted. “Maybe _ that’s _ the lesson the universe is trying to teach you with this.”

“You’re saying I’ve been transported ten years in the future because I needed to learn how to listen?”

“Have you got a better theory?”

Mark doesn’t – he’s avoided thinking about the semantics and logic behind the entire scenario, because at first he was too happy to care, and now the lack of answers just annoys him. He doesn’t want to admit defeat though, so he ignores the question entirely. 

“You don’t need to sign your emails to me,” he says instead, thinking about how Eduardo would leave notes on their whiteboard at Kirkland and sign it with an “E.S,” even though nobody else expect Chris’ suitors ever left messages there.

“It’s polite,” Eduardo says, and if Mark rolls his eyes, thankful that Eduardo isn’t around to see it.

“It’s pointless,” Mark corrects. “I know who you are.”

“Do you?” 

Mark’s sure it’s meant to be playful, but the joke falls flat. He can’t fault Eduardo for that, knows he’s the reason they don’t know each other anymore. He hears Eduardo take in a breath, and knows he’s about to apologise, so he cuts in before he can. 

“I know you from ten years ago. And I want to know you now.” 

Eduardo hesitates, and Mark hastily adds, “If you’d let me.”

“If I let you?” Eduardo asks, though there’s something new in his tone. Hope, maybe, if Mark wants to delude himself.

“We could meet up again,” Mark shrugs, even though there’s nobody there to see him. “Get lunch, maybe.”

“I’m back in New York,” Eduardo replies. “My life is here.”

It hurts Mark more than he expected to hear it, another reminder that Eduardo has an entire new life that doesn’t include him. But he might still have a chance to be part of it if he fights for it, actually gives this time instead of being all take.

“We can do emails. And phone calls. Whatever. If you want to, I mean.” Because he wants Eduardo back in his life, but only if he wants it too. He doesn’t believe Eduardo’s theory of why he ended up here, but he is learning lessons. About listening and making exceptions and putting actual effort into maintaining relationships. Mark’s grown less and less comfortable with the person he’s become, but he’s starting to realise that he’s always taken more than he gives.

“Okay,” Eduardo says finally. “We can do that.”

He sounds happy, Mark realises. Not as happy as Mark is used to back in 2004, but happier than he’s sounded for the entirety of 2004. And it makes him feel a little brave. 

“Are you going to get annoyed if I call you ‘Wardo’ again?” He asks, because he’s missed saying the familiar nickname, and never realised how much that first syllable bothered him before.

Eduardo laughs at that, and Mark has to bite back a smile, because that’s twice now in one conversation that he’s gotten to hear that sound. Eduardo’s real laugh, not the cold and mocking one he gave Mark that first day.

“No. You can call me Wardo.”

* * *

Even with everything about his new life that he has on offer, Mark makes rebuilding his friendship with Eduardo the priority. Facebook is a close second, because it’s still new and large and exciting for him, seeing his work become what it has. But the relationship he’s slowly fixing with Eduardo is just as large and exciting; something else he can create and change. If he can fix this, he can fix everything else, and this life will be as perfect as he originally thought it was.

It’s weird, to be talking to Eduardo so much without him being physically there, leaning over his shoulder and watching him code, resting his hand on Mark’s back when he was leading him somewhere. Mark’s never been a physical person, but he’d always made exceptions for Eduardo, and he finds himself missing it.

But Eduardo’s talking to him again, and that’s what matters. Eduardo was right, he’s unable to help Mark remember anything about his life as it is now. He manages to fill in what he can with information he finds online, but Mark learns more about Eduardo’s life than his own during their conversations. Mark listens, more than he can recall ever doing with anyone, to Eduardo talking about his work as an angel investor and weather patterns and what he made for dinner that night. He’s never been so interested in the minor details of someone’s life, and wants to save every detail Eduardo tells him: the stuff that happened to him in his last year at Harvard, and what happened at his job that morning. He manages to make even the mundane stuff sound interesting, and he wants to appreciate every little moment of it. 

There’s two subjects they avoid entirely: Eduardo’s upcoming wedding, and what happened between them.

They don’t discuss Eduardo’s wedding because Mark still doesn’t quite believe he’s getting married, even after meeting his fiancé. The thought of it makes something unpleasant settle in his chest, the same feeling he got when he first heard the news. He doesn’t want to think about what that could mean, so it’s easier to act like the impending nuptials aren’t happening altogether. Eduardo never brings it up either, and it’s easy to pretend that Jake and the wedding don’t exist at all.

As for their history, Mark avoids the subject because Eduardo does. He’s still not entirely sure how he feels about the situation – he regrets the hurt he sees he caused Eduardo, and how he handled things, but he’s not sure he can fault himself for wanting to do what was best for the company, even if the way he did it was wrong – and that’s not a conversation he thinks they can have over the phone or email. If Eduardo wanted to talk about it, Mark would, but it seems like it’s the last thing he wants to address, so they leave it. Which is probably for the best. 

Despite that, Eduardo doesn’t seem to have an issue with Mark talking about Facebook, or at least Mark’s role in it. Mark had tried to avoid discussing it at first, unsure of how sensitive Eduardo was to the topic and determined not to ruin their newfound friendship. But Eduardo had gently reminded him that Mark didn’t know about anything going on his life, and said that listening to him whine about his COO and the fact won’t people let him work on the site in peace isn’t going to upset him.

He laughs when Mark calls him to complain about how all he wants to do is code, but he has to deal with various departments instead, and replies to his emails about how he thinks the privacy discussions are stupid with comments about how he should be kinder to his users. It’s almost like Mark remembers things being; Eduardo encouraging Mark to be better and trying to help, but doing it all with a kind of exasperated fondness. He tries to quash any hope that blooms up, aware of how fragile things still are, but Mark can’t help but wonder if maybe he can still keep both Eduardo and Facebook. 

Things feel better and easier than they have since Mark first got here, and even Natalie makes a comment about he’s smiling more these days.

(Her exact words were “The interns have never seen your mouth turn up that way, and it’s freaking them out,” at which point Mark told her to get back to work and not bother him unless it was an emergency. Eduardo had laughed when he’d told him the story though, so it had been worth it.)

He makes an effort to stay in touch with Chris and Dustin too, both of whom noticeably avoid mentioning Eduardo. Mark doesn’t know if it’s a force of habit or if they’re waiting for Mark to bring him up, but he wants to keep their budding friendship to himself. There’s always been elements of his friendship with Eduardo that he’s kept private, even with his next two closest friends. But he lets them talk about their own lives in a way he didn’t before, even though he doesn’t care about their lives nearly as much as he does Eduardo’s.

About two weeks into their correspondence, Eduardo mentions to Mark that he needs to come down to California again in a few days for a conference. He doesn’t know if Eduardo wants it to mean something, but Mark does. The past two weeks have been the most relaxed he’s felt since arriving here, but he misses Eduardo’s physical presence. He hasn’t seen him in person since the night at the gala, and so much has shifted between them since then. He wants to see how well that translates to the physical world. 

“If you have any free time,” he begins, before he can stop himself, “we should meet up. Have a nice conversation in person, for once.”

Eduardo doesn’t respond right away, and Mark wonders if he’s gone too far too soon and messed everything up. Despite his effort and work to understand him better, Mark still doesn’t know everything that Eduardo wants from him just yet.

Then Eduardo does talk, and he sounds soft and almost excited when he says, “Yeah. I’ll have to let you know, but I’d love that.”

Mark has to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning like a freak, but he can’t do anything to control the rush of excitement that thrums through him.

“That’d be great,” he replies, then allows Eduardo to change the subject and complain about the mistakes his idiotic coworker keeps making, and he can’t shake his good feeling for the rest of the day.

Eduardo messages him the next day asking if he’s free to meet up for dinner and drinks the night before he has to fly back to New York, and the smiley face he sends back when Mark says that works is better than anything he’s seen from Facebook.

* * *

Mark comes into his office the day he’s meant to meet up with Eduardo, to find Sean spinning around in his chair. They haven’t spoken since the gala, and Eduardo’s look of surprise when Mark had stood up for him flashes briefly in his mind. They’re starting to rebuild their friendship, but he still can’t quite shake off the guilt off everything he’d done before, and Sean’s presence isn’t going to help any of that.

“Sean,” he says coolly, staring at him until Sean vacates his chair with a smirk, “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to see how my best buddy is doing,” he shrugs, flopping down in the chair on the other side of his desk. He doesn’t mention that they last time they spoke, they’d been annoyed with each other, and Mark can’t tell if Sean moves on from that stuff easily or he’s planning something. Trying to figure out people’s feelings and motives isn’t something he likes doing, and he’s starting to believe that Eduardo was right to distrust Sean.

Mark decides to ignore the comment for now, sitting down in his own chair and booting up his laptop. Sean watches him with an amused look, and Mark has to stop himself from squirming. 

“Your presence is rather disconcerting,” he says, and Sean flashes his teeth. “What specifically did you want to ask me about?”

”Nothing in particular,” Sean replies, picking up a pen from Mark’s desk and twirling it around with his fingers, “You’ve been MIA lately, and I worry about you. I worry about our company.”

“_ Our _ company?” Mark asks, not even trying to keep the disdain out his voice. He’s aware of Sean’s role in Facebook now, and the fact that he lingers around a lot of the time, but that doesn’t mean he has a right to claim it as his. Facebook is Mark’s, and if he shares it with anyone, it’s _ Eduardo _, even after everything.

Sean’s face darkens momentarily, but his shit-eating grin reappears so fast that Mark thinks he must have imagined it.

“Just because Facebook isn’t the only thing in my life doesn’t mean I can’t worry about it,” Sean says, “and I’ve been hearing about some problems.”

Mark frowns, because even with everything that’s going on, Facebook is still important to him, and he doesn’t want things to go wrong for it. “What exactly have you been hearing?”

“Oh, the usual concerns about privacy issues,” he tosses the pen back on the table, “But I know you don’t really care about that stuff. You’re under the impression that you built the site, you didn’t force people to post things on there.”

As much as he hates to admit that Sean is right, Mark rolls his eyes, concern fading as quick as it arrived.

“If people are stupid enough to post all their private information online, I can’t stop them,” he says with a shrug, the comment rolling off his tongue before he can think to stop it. It’s the kind of thing Eduardo would scold him for, both back at Harvard and his emails now.

Sean doesn’t do anything of the sort, just tips his head back and laughs.

“Sometimes, you still sound like the twenty year old kid with a big brain and a bigger ego,” he smirks, reaching out to pinch Mark’s cheek. Mark shoves him off, his annoyance with Sean growing stronger with every passing moment. 

“Touchy touchy,” he continues, but he sounds slightly less amused now, and his grin is starting to fall. “Your knight in shining armour moment with _ Wardo _has made you soft.” 

Mark stiffens at the use of the nickname, the one he gave to Eduardo, the one that nobody outside of their Kirkland suite was ever allowed to use. It feels wrong in Sean’s voice, cruel and mocking. Mark has only just gotten back the right to use it, and he’s not going to share it with the one person Eduardo seems to truly hate.

“You sound like a jealous sixteen year old,” Mark grumbles in response, because it’s either that or making a fuss about a nickname he was only just allowed to use again. He knows it’s pointless to pick a fight with Sean over decisions _ he _ supposedly made, but he can’t stop thinking about what Eduardo said, about how he would’ve stayed if Mark had stuck up for him. Mark might’ve fucked up his relationship with Eduardo, but he can’t help but think the fault lies with Sean. It’s certainly easier to accept that and place the blame on him. 

Sean’s eyes narrow. “Seriously, what the fuck is up with you lately? Saverin makes one sad face at a gala and suddenly you’re acting like the kid who whined about how his best friend didn’t come out.”

“You’re getting on my nerves,” he snaps. “All this bullshit with Eduardo has to stop sometime. You’re an adult, and I don’t know why I excused it for so long.” 

Sean stares at him in silence for a moment, before getting to his feet with a mocking grin. “Whatever you say, Mark. Tell your BFF that I won’t bother him anymore.”

He stalks out before Mark can get another word in, and Mark turns to his laptop so he doesn’t have to watch Sean walk away through the glass doors. 

When he opens his email, there’s a new one from Eduardo there, asking if they’re still on for tonight. Mark types out a confirmation, trying to push the argument with Sean out of his mind. He gets the feeling that things aren’t over between them, but he needs to focus on Eduardo right now. Not Sean, and whatever their friendship entailed. 

He put Sean first last time, and even if Mark doesn’t remember it, he won’t let himself make that mistake again.

He invites Eduardo over for video games and beer like he’s used to doing back in his time, expecting him to say no and asking for a more public setting. But to his surprise, Eduardo agrees, under the condition that Mark allows him to cook a proper dinner instead of ordering in pizza.

“Your diet concerns me,” he explains when Mark calls to demand why. “You still eat like you’re a college sophomore. All chemicals and no vegetables.” 

Mark doesn’t remind him that he technically is a college sophomore, nor does he allow himself to overthink Eduardo admitting that he’s concerned about him. Instead, he just informs Eduardo that he doubts his death is imminent, and is rewarded with a large laugh.

“Maybe not, but it won’t hurt to eat something that isn’t primarily cheese or sugar,” he says, like they’re back at Kirkland and Eduardo had shoved a salad he bought into his hands. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Right. Tonight,” he replies as Eduardo rings off, and the situation with Sean is forgotten.

* * *

He intends to get home early to prepare for Eduardo’s arrival, but gets caught up fixing a bug in the code and loses track of time. By the time he finishes up and comes to, he has to run out of the office in order to get home in time, and hasn’t even unlocked his door when Eduardo arrives in a taxi.

Mark watches as he pays the driver before slipping out with a large briefcase and a bag of groceries. He’s dressed in a full suit and his hair is gelled back in the way he only does when he wants to make an impression, but he seems less tense than Mark remembers.

Eduardo quirks an eyebrow as he joins Mark on his front step, speaking before Mark can try to explain his intentions and failure to get off early. “Busy day?”

Mark shrugs, “I get invested easily. You know that.”

Eduardo stares at him for a second before letting out a laugh, and he sounds so much lighter than when Mark saw him last so he knows he doesn’t have to feel guilty about it regardless. 

He helps Eduardo bring the groceries in, and watches him as he takes off his tie and suit jacket, folding them neatly on the couch before rolling up his sleeves. He looks younger now; older than the twenty-one year old Mark left behind, but it’s as if the past few weeks they’ve been talking have taken several years off. Mark only looks away when Eduardo smiles at him in confusion.

“Dinner?” he asks to avoid any questioning, and sits at the kitchen island while Eduardo starts preparing the food.

“It feels weird that you’re cooking in my house when I haven’t even done that,” he comments after several moments of watching Eduardo chop vegetables. Eduardo shrugs, a smile forming on his lips.

“You didn’t know many recipes at nineteen,” Eduardo reminds him. “And I like cooking.”

Mark rolls his eyes, though he supposes Eduardo has a point; his cooking skills are limited, and judging by how empty his fridge is, his adult self probably doesn’t know any more recipes now than he does at nineteen.

“I’ll learn,” he protests. “For next time.”

Eduardo’s smile breaks out properly this time, but he doesn’t comment on the _ next time, _just asks Marks about the bug he was fixing at work. He listens as he begins to mix together a sauce and throws things in a pot he found somewhere in Mark’s kitchen, even as Mark gets sidetracked and starts talking about code unrelated to what he did today. He makes occasional hums of approval and asks for clarification at certain points, but he seems content just to hear Mark’s voice. He’d do this back at Harvard too, listen to him rant about things for hours on end, even though he didn’t understand most of it.

Mark realises he’s been talking for nearly an hour when Eduardo abruptly asks him to pour some drinks. He does as asked, watching as Eduardo serves up two plates.

“You didn’t tell me about your work,” he points out. Eduardo complains about his coworkers and hypes up clients over the phone and email, but Mark hasn’t let him say anything about it since he got here, and it feels unpleasantly familiar. Like before, the kind of attitude he had before he woke up here without Eduardo.

“The conference,” he adds when Eduardo blinks at him.

“Alright,” he nods, taking a glass from Mark as he nods to the food set up on the island. “While we eat. Here, apparently, because you don’t have a dining table.”

Mark has to bite back a smile at the comment, but finds himself smirking and laughing as Eduardo tells him about the past 24 hours. He’s never doubted Eduardo’s intelligence or sense of humour, otherwise he wouldn’t have kept him around, but it feels different now. He doesn’t know how his adult self went so long without Eduardo (or his cooking, he thinks, as he admits that it’s the best meal he’s had since he woke up here) in his life. 

“It’s nice to see you,” he says once they’ve moved passed work talk, and Eduardo smiles at him.

“You too,” he replies, then turns away from Mark as what looks like a blush appears on his cheeks. “I’d forgotten how easy it was to talk to you.” 

Mark blinks, because nobody’s said that to him; people tend to find him difficult at best and unbearable at worst. Eduardo’s willingness to spend time with him surprised Mark at first, and it surprises him even more now, with their unfamiliar and painful history.

“Easy,” he repeats drily, and Eduardo lets out a laugh.

“Not always, no,” he admits, “But comfortable. I liked talking to you, even when you were being mean about your classmates or rambling about code.”

“I liked talking to you too,” Mark says, looking away and down at his plate, “I didn’t– it was weird to find out I didn’t. When I woke up here, I mean.”

“Mark,” Eduardo says softly, and though the laughter’s gone there’s no sadness or anger in his voice. He sounds more like the Eduardo Mark knows, and it’s enough to make him look back up and meet his eyes.

“You’re usually always around,” Mark continues, even though Eduardo is no stranger to their friendship back at Harvard. Whatever happened between them in the decade between then and now, they always had that. “That’s what I’m used to.”

“It’s been years since we spent a significant amount of time together. We’ve been apart longer than we were ever friends. But I’d still find myself missing _ it _sometimes,” Eduardo says. “And I hated it, because I didn’t want to miss any of it, after what happened. But I did. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Mark tells him, because he’s spent far too much time not saying it.

Eduardo smiles a little, “You were also living those days just a month ago.”

“No, I mean. As an adult, I missed you, here. Which seems illogical given the circumstances, but just because I did what I did doesn’t mean I didn’t feel the lack of your presence.” 

“Mark, you can’t claim—” Eduardo begins, but Mark shakes his head, cutting him off.

“I can. I can’t tell you what I was thinking when I did it,” he tells him, and this time Eduardo looks away. “But I can’t believe any version of me would’ve ever wanted this. To not have you in my life.”

They’re silent for a minute, Mark watching Eduardo’s profile as he stares down at his hands. When Eduardo finally looks up at him, he gives Mark a shaky smile. 

“Okay. I still don’t know how to feel about everything that’s happened, but I believe you.”

They finish the rest of the meal without saying a word to each other, and Mark tries to figure out where to go from here. Honesty seems to be working in his favour, but he’s still uncomfortable with putting himself out there, especially when he has so little to work with. 

Eduardo goes to top up their glasses, standing behind the island and pouring drinks like he belongs there. He did the same thing back at Harvard, slipped into Mark’s life and inserted himself at Kirkland like he belonged there. He’d brought drinks and dinner for him back then too, stocking their mini fridge with beer and making sure Mark ate food that wasn’t tuna and cold dinners that Dustin snuck up from the D hall. 

“Wardo,” he starts, and Eduardo gives him a small smile in acknowledgement. There’s several things he still wants to say, about then and now, but he still doesn’t know how to get them out. He wants to say the things he never wanted to tell _ his _Eduardo, and the things he never realised before now. There’s a part of him that also wants to apologize, but he’s not quite sure how to accept full responsibility and get the words out.

But the timing doesn’t feel right, and he doesn’t want to blow the moment if it ever comes. So he swallows, and brings up something else that’s been plaguing him thoughts.

“You never told me what happened with your dad,” Mark says instead, and Eduardo frowns at him. “Maybe I don’t have the right to know, but—” 

“No,” Eduardo cuts him off, voice shaking slightly. “I just didn’t know if it mattered you.”

“You matter to me,” Mark tells him, because he promised to listen this time, and he’s learning that being vulnerable and honest might be his only way to fix this and keep it. And he might as well start here while he tries to figure out everything else he wants to say. 

“After everything that happened with Facebook,” Eduardo begins, and Mark has to turn away because he can’t look at him whenever they discuss this. “He was...more disappointed in me than I think he ever had been before. He wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t refer to me as his son. Nothing I did was ever going to matter from that point on, because I was always going to be the idiot who got screwed out of his own company by his best friend.”

Mark suddenly feels like throwing up, and almost blurts out an apology there. It sounds so _ cruel _when said like that. Not only did he hurt Eduardo, but he set him up to be hurt again by the same man who could take away Eduardo’s light like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Wardo, I—” 

“Don’t. Just because you hurt me doesn’t mean he had to make it worse.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Mark thinking about how _ his _ Eduardo would always shake when he finished phone calls in trembling Portuguese. How he’d somehow come back from spending two weeks in the Floridian sun and look paler than when he left. How he was always apologetic and eager to please and there was a reason, a person, that had made him like that. How Eduardo had sounded when he said _ you have no idea what that is going to mean to my father, _like it was the most important thing in the world. Eduardo never spoke much about his family and Mark never really asked, but he knew anyway. And despite Eduardo’s protests, he can’t help but feel the guilt settle in. 

Eduardo seems to notice Mark’s gradually dampening mood, and reaches across to take his hand. Mark jolts at the contact, and Eduardo smiles apologetically at him before beginning to speak again.

“I realised I was never going to be good enough for him, even when I had billions of dollars and my name back on the masthead of the biggest social networking site in the world. So I stopped trying. It took some time to get out of the mindset of needing his approval with everything, but I couldn’t put myself through that anymore. I told him that I didn’t want to hear his input on my life anymore, and I needed to make myself happy. Not him. So I left, and I found my job, and I found Jake. Either he respected my request that he avoid commenting on my life, or he decided I wasn’t worth being part of the family anymore. But it’s been years, and I haven’t heard from him.”

“Do you miss him?” Mark asks. He’s glad Eduardo got rid of the man that caused him so much pain, but he also knows Eduardo loves easily and aims to please, and his family was always his biggest concern there, probably because they never gave him love or appreciation in the first place.

“Sometimes, I guess. It’s hard,” Eduardo replies. “But I’m better off without him. I have people in my life that help me. That do care about me and love me, without making me sacrifice myself for it.”

“I should’ve been there for you,” Mark says, and he means during all the stuff with his dad, and back in 2004, when it mattered the most.

Eduardo smiles at him sadly, squeezing his hand. “You are now.”

“Up until four weeks ago, you hated me,” Mark reminds him, because the guilt is still eating him up, and he can’t forgive himself just because Eduardo seems to be reaching a place where _ he _ wants to.

Eduard is silent for a minute, as if trying to work out what to say, but he doesn’t let go of Mark’s hand even for a second.

“I never hated you,” Eduardo admits, as if it’s some kind of shameful secret, as if he _ should _hate Mark. “I wanted to, at times. But I could never bring myself to. Caring about you wasn’t just something I could switch off, no matter how hard I tried.”

“I never hated you either,” Mark says, “I know it probably seemed like that at some point. But whatever decisions I made, I can’t imagine myself ever hating about you. Other people, sure. But never you.”

Eduardo’s face softens, and he suddenly looks just like the Eduardo Mark remembers. Soft and open and full of this sweetness Mark had never quite understood. He’d never looked at anyone else that way, and it suddenly hits him just how much he’s missed it.

Mark looks down at their hands that are still intertwined, and thinks about everything he still has to say. And it hits him that there are certain things that he won’t be able to put into words, only action.

He gently tugs his hand out of Eduardo’s grasp, and the flash of hurt that comes across Eduardo’s face is all the confirmation he needs. He gets to his feet and goes to meet Eduardo on the other side of the counter, heart beating so loud he’s sure he can hear it.

“Mark,” Eduardo whispers, and Mark leans up and kisses him, resting his hands on his hips. Eduardo lets out a gasp and seems to take a moment to register what’s happening, but then he’s kissing him back, reaching his hand up to cup Mark’s face.

They’ve kissed once before – only a few months ago for Mark, but over a decade ago for Eduardo. They’d found themselves alone in the suite after one of the parties early in Mark’s sophomore year, and Eduardo had drunkenly thrown his arm around him on the couch, pressed his head into Mark’s neck while he laughed about something stupid. He didn’t pull away even after the laughter had subsided, and when Mark went to go and nudge him off, he ended up drawing Eduardo into a kiss instead. 

They’d made out sloppily for what seemed like forever, and even with Mark’s very limited experience, it was far from the best kiss he’d had. It was messy and an awkward angle and he had Eduardo’s knee digging into his thigh, but he hadn’t wanted it to end. Eduardo had been smiling at him when they finally broke apart, and they’d fallen asleep together, pressed close together on the too small couch. 

He’d woken up alone, with a post it note stuck to his forehead in Eduardo’s swooping handwriting (_ Economics class. See you later. Don’t forget to eat! E.S.) _He’d crumpled it up, tried to forget the feel of Eduardo’s lips on his and the hurt that came with waking up without him. It had been a drunken college experience, not his first and not his last, and he managed to convince himself it didn’t mean anything by the time he was heading off for his first class. If Eduardo was going to just leave him a post it note, it clearly meant very little to him, and Mark wasn’t going to allow himself to dwell on it. 

He’d asked Erica out that day, just to be sure.

But this – this is different. This time, there’s far less alcohol in their system, and they’re miles away from Kirkland and Harvard and Erica Albright. It’s not frantic or messy, and Eduardo kisses him slowly, rubbing his thumb gently over Mark’s cheek. 

They pull away, and Mark has to stop himself from whining at the loss. Eduardo’s still looking at him, eyes bright and brows furrowed. His hand is still cupping Mark’s face, and Mark is still clutching at his hips as if they were a lifeline.

“Can I ask why you kissed me?” Eduardo asks, but he doesn’t sound angry, just breathless. They’re close enough that he doesn’t need to speak louder than a whisper, and Mark wants him to be this close to him all the time. 

He shrugs, “I’ve wanted to do that for awhile.”

Eduardo smiles at him then, the way Mark remembers – easy and soft with crinkled eyes – and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Yeah. Me too.”

Eduardo spends the night, after Mark insists he crash in one of the several guest rooms he has. It seemed easier than trying to get him a hotel room at this hour, and Mark had shut down every attempt Eduardo had made to claim otherwise.

“Thank you,” Eduardo tells him, smiling down at him in a way that makes Mark want to reach up and kiss him again. After they had kissed some more, Eduardo had taken Mark’s hand and they had gone outside and relaxed in the pool chairs, talking about Harvard days. Eduardo had his head turned up towards the sky like he was counting the stars, but Mark hadn’t been able to look anywhere but at him. “For tonight.”

Mark shrugs, hoping it comes across as a ‘I had fun too’ shrug, as opposed to a ‘I don’t care and I’m bored of this situation’ shrug.

Judging by Eduardo’s widening grin, he succeeded.

“Goodnight, Mark,” he tells him, reaching out stroking his fingers across Mark’s cheekbone. It only lasts a few seconds, and he pulls away before Mark can lean into the touch, but he smiles up at Eduardo all the same.

“Goodnight, Wardo.”

He goes back to his own room, unable to keep the smile off his face, even as he’s lying in bed. It’s impossible not to think about Eduardo when he’s a few feet away, in Mark’s house. Mark wonders if Eduardo is asleep or thinking about him too, thinks about his fingers and lips and bright eyes that take up half of his face. It takes him a long time to fall asleep, and when he does, Eduardo is all he dreams about.

* * *

When Mark stumbles downstairs the next morning, Eduardo’s already awake, dressed in one of his ridiculous suits with his phone pressed to his ear. Mark feels himself smiling at the sight, reminded once again about their kiss last night and how _ happy _Eduardo had seemed after, even after everything they had discussed.

He’s about to suggest going out for breakfast before Mark heads into work. He’d skip the whole day if that’s what Eduardo wanted, just to keep him in California as long as he can.

He steps forward towards him, but Eduardo doesn’t return his smile and sounds a little tense when he says, “You too. I’ll see you later,” to whoever’s on the other end of the phone. He hangs up, and stares down at his phone.

“Wardo,” Mark says, and Eduardo jolts before looking up at him. The ease from last night is gone from his face, but he doesn’t look like he’s sad or angry either. Mark can’t make out his expression.

“Sorry,” Eduardo says, but he sounds distracted, and Mark’s eyes narrow. “Something’s come up and I need to catch an earlier flight.”

“But—”

“It’s nothing you did,” Eduardo reassures him, and Mark doesn’t believe any of it. “Plans have changed, is all. I can’t stay in California right now. I’ll call a cab, and I’ll be out of here in a few minutes. You don’t need to worry, alright?”

Mark stands there and watches him as he calls a cab company, feeling like a stranger in his own home with his own best friend. He doesn’t know what’s shifted in the last nine hours, but everything suddenly feels wrong, just when he had started to make things right.

Even after Eduardo hangs up, he doesn’t know what to say or do. He doesn’t know what has happened this time, if he’s messed up again or Eduardo is regretting last night because Mark did hurt him, even if it was his thirty year old self. 

Eduardo remains silent and refuses to meet his eyes, busying himself with fixing his tie and running his hand through his hair, free from the gel of the day before. Mark doesn’t want him to go but doesn’t know how to stop him, or even if he could.

A car honk from outside startles them both, and Eduardo grabs his briefcase and drapes his jacket over his arm, opening the front door just as Mark takes a step forward to do something. Eduardo glances back at him and he’s at a loss for words, suddenly feeling like he did at the gala all those weeks ago.

“I’ll call you when I get to New York,” Eduardo says, and gives him a half-hearted smile as he turns away and answers his ringing phone. He doesn’t look back at Mark once as he makes his way to the town car, phone pressed to his ear the entire time. Mark watches him go, feeling so much like he did the morning he woke up alone on the couch, a post-it note stuck to his forehead.

It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, and he stands in the middle of his living room for a few more minutes. The happiness he felt not twenty minutes ago is gone, and he doesn’t know if he should be sad or just plain angry – at himself, at Eduardo, at New York, at something going wrong when things were finally going good. 

He forces himself to go into Facebook HQ, trying to convince himself that Eduardo just had work things to deal with and just got distracted. Mark can’t fault him for that, because he’s done that himself hundreds of times, including yesterday. He can do the same today, he reminds himself as he shuts himself in his office, ignoring Natalie’s attempts to talk to him. 

If Eduardo is going to focus on his career, so will Mark. He busies himself with code, losing himself in the one thing he knows best. He’s always understood it easier than he understood people, Eduardo included and maybe especially.

Despite his concerns, it’s easy enough to focus on the code in front of him, especially when he’s blocked out the rest of the world. He forgets about Eduardo and his weirdness from this morning and the tenderness from the night before a few lines in, and he falls into the same rhythms as he always does.

He expects to be brought out of it by a call from Eduardo as promised, but instead it’s when Natalie yanks his headphones off. Mark jolts in surprise, and goes to snap at her, until he notices his COO and PR Who Isn’t Chris standing behind her with matching looks of fury.

“What?” He demands. He wouldn’t care about their anger towards him on an average day, let alone when they’ve pulled him out of coding tear, and especially when he remembers why he’d been so eager to distract himself in the first place. He glances down at his phone, but there’s nothing about a missed call or a new message from the one person he wants to hear from.

“I don’t have time for your shit right now, Mark,” his COO snaps, sounding even more annoyed than she did that first day, when Sean claimed Mark was drunk at a meeting. “We kept trying to deal with this, but you didn’t care, just told us to deal – meanwhile, you’re complaining about it all to whatever friends you supposedly do have.” 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” he spits, wanting them to leave him alone so he could get back to his job and try not to think about the fact Eduardo said he’d call but he’s yet to do so. “And I don’t really ca—”

“Check CNN,” PR Guy Who Isn’t Chris interrupts, “Or The Guardian, or Business Insider, or just google your name and Facebook’s because everyone is reporting on it anyway.”

He glares at them but does what he’s told, dread creeping up on him as he searches his name and a wave of brand new articles pop up at him from just about every news site imaginable. The clickbait level of the headlines vary, but they all seem to be about the same thing: a data leak and a lack of respect both Facebook and it’s CEO has for the privacy of its users.

Mark sucks in a breath, and thinks about everything that everyone’s tried to say to him, the concerns even Eduardo and Chris half-heartedly brought up, way back when.

“It gets worse than the headlines,” he snarls, “There’s a great quote from you in there, one that a ‘close source’ supposedly gave. _ If people are stupid enough to post all their private information online _. Do you have any idea what I’m going to have to do to explain a CEO calling all his users stupid? At least give me the name of this so-called credible source. If one of your employees said it, then I’ll deal with it, and it I find out one of your friends did—“ 

“Don’t be an idiot,” because Mark only remembers talking to Eduardo about all of this and Eduardo would never reveal anything like that. Eduardo wouldn’t hurt him or Facebook in that way, even now, even after everything. And Mark doesn’t care if he didn’t call like he said he would and might be mad at him for unknown reasons because he still needs to talk to him, right now, instead of listening to his staff yell at him.

“You’re telling _ us _that right now? Are you serious?” His publicist demands.

“We need to deal with this,” his COO adds, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can’t have you blowing this off.. You can’t just bury yourself in code and ignore this like you do everything else. Not anymore.” 

“We will,” he snaps. “This is my company, and I will deal with it. You do what I pay you to do, and we can talk later. But right now, I need you all to leave.”

He needs to speak to Eduardo, needs to explain things and ask what happened this morning and at least try to figure out one aspect of his life. He was so happy twenty four hours ago, and he thinks he can only get that back if he speaks to Eduardo now.

“Why? Do you need to call a source and insult your users further?” his PR guy snaps at him, and Mark suddenly hates him more than anyone else he’s ever met before. He considers firing the guy right there, not even caring that would just make things even harder for him and the site.

Natalie’s staring at him with narrowed eyes, but she turns to the other two people in the room before Mark can speak, “I don’t think yelling at each other will help this. Let our _ beloved _ CEO process everything, and we can get mad at him and deal once he’s absorbed how badly he’s messed up.”

It’s one of the meaner things somebody has said about him recently, but it seems to work, as they all just mutter several more threats and complaints before leaving him alone again. Mark waits until the door is shut behind them before he opens up his phone, dialing the number he’s become most familiar with over the last few weeks.

The phone picks up after several rings, and Mark is about to go into a rant before someone speaks on the other end, cutting him off.

“Hello?”

Mark frowns, because the voice sounds vaguely familiar but it is definitely not Eduardo. 

“Wardo?” He asks, just to be safe, staring at his laptop screen and wincing when he once again sees all the headlines about him. He hopes Eduardo hasn’t read any of them yet, or at least that he doesn’t believe Mark is as horrible and cruel as everyone suddenly seems to think he is.

“No, it’s Jake. Eduardo’s in the shower.”

_ Jake. _Eduardo’s fiance, the one Mark had spent so long trying to ignore the existence of. But despite his best efforts, the man still exists and he’s comfortable enough to answer Eduardo’s phone while he’s in the shower. The phone conversation he witnessed this morning suddenly makes sense, and Mark wishes he’d figured it out then and there so he could have convinced Eduardo to stay.

“It’s Mark, right?” Jake asks when he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, because he’s too busy trying to grasp the situation, “Can I take a message?”

Even with Mark’s limited social skills, he knows that he can’t really tell someone _ yes, the man you love kissed me last night after he made me dinner and before holding my hand and star gazing with me, can you let him know that I miss those moments and him and also, the world thinks I’m an asshole but I really hope he doesn’t believe that, and if he could call me back as soon as possible, that would be great. _

“No. I need to just speak to him. As soon as I can. It’s important,” he says, hoping that his panic doesn’t come across in his tone. The last thing he needs is for Eduardo’s fiance to be worried about him.

Jake lets out a laugh, and he’s not even being mean but he’s Mark’s new least favourite person, his publicist already forgotten. “Might be a little difficult. The wedding’s tomorrow.”

Mark’s mouth goes dry.

Eduardo’s getting married. Tomorrow. 

“Tomorrow,” Mark repeats, “But he was in California this morning.”

It’s kind of a stupid thing to say, but Mark can’t say what he’s really thinking. Which is _ How can he be marrying you tomorrow when I kissed him last night? _He can’t imagine that any good would come of that, even if Jake believed him in the first place.

“Yes, I was awfully upset that he chose to go out there for a conference right before our wedding. He was extremely apologetic when he got home though, saying that he felt bad for being away last night and even picked up some flowers for me,” Jake says, mistaking Mark’s confusion for concern, and he sounds so warm that it makes Mark feel sick. “Isn’t that kind of him?” 

“Sure,” Mark replies, because he doesn’t have time to get into a passive aggressive argument right now, and he wants to shut Jake up before he goes on about more sweet things Eduardo does for him. “Just tell him to call me when he’s free.” 

“Might not be until the day after tomorrow, if that. Got a busy 24 hours ahead of us, and then the honeymoon, but I’ll let him know you called. You have a nice night, okay?”

Jake hangs up before he can get another word in, and Mark pulls the phone away from his ear slowly, blood rushing in his head. Eduardo’s still getting married. It’s as if the past few weeks have meant nothing, like their kiss meant nothing. Mark had thought so little about Eduardo’s upcoming marriage that he just assumed it would end before it became a problem for him. But nothing has changed. He’s going to be saying his vows on the day Mark becomes one of the most hated people online, as if the universe wants to fuck with him for being an asshole one last time. 

He’s barely been off the phone for a minute when Sean strolls into the office, grinning like there’s nothing wrong, even though most of the place is in a state of panic. Mark wants to tell him to fuck off, wants to deal with his company and _ Eduardo getting married _ in peace. But there’s something off about the whole situation, Sean’s sudden presence and the way he seems amused by it all, that makes Mark keep his mouth shut.

“Not a good day to be Facebook’s CEO, is it Mark?” Sean asks snidely. 

Suddenly, Mark’s thrown back to their conversation yesterday, and what his publicist told him just then, and he feels his stomach drop. Sean was the source. Mark sacrificed the most important relationship in his life for him and Sean ended up screwing him over all these years later anyway. 

“Are 20 year olds turned on by Silicon Valley gossips now?” Mark asks, torn between fury at Sean and at his past self for trusting him in the first place. He’d been warned not to, and now he’s getting what he deserved because he was too stubborn and too blinded by hero worship to listen. 

Sean laughs, loud and easy, as if him selling Mark out to reporters during a company crisis is just a joke. It probably is just a joke to Sean, Mark tells himself. This is the same man that encouraged him to screw Eduardo over and made fun of him for years after the fact.

“Me passing on one little comment you made is not your biggest concern right now, is it Mark?” Sean asks, flopping himself down in the chair across from him. There’s nothing there of the guy who took Mark to the offices on the first day and hyped him up that night. Eduardo had warned him about Sean, about how he didn’t need him, and Mark wishes he listened back in 2004 and wishes he listened a month ago.

Because it’s dawning on Mark that even if Sean isn’t evil, he’s a self preservationist and an opportunist, and he’s not a friend. Which Mark can’t fault him for, because it’s been shown to him again and again that he wasn’t much better. What Mark can’t believe is that he let him get away with so much, only for Sean to save his own skin the first time he said no. He figures this is what Eduardo has always known, and what Chris and Dustin and everyone else learnt long before he did.

“Anyway, it would’ve gotten out eventually,” Sean continues, rolling his eyes. “Can’t shoot the messenger.”

“That’s a lie, and we both know it. The leaks aside, you knew what going to the press with what I said would do. _ You _ wanted to take make me look like an asshole,” Mark says, wondering what he ever saw in Sean outside of the glamour and the grand statements. Maybe that’s all he ever did see, and just never wanted to look behind it. “For what? Attention? Because you were jealous?”

Sean’s eyes flash. “Cut the shit. It’s your company. It was your words. You can’t blame me for your fuck ups. You’re a big boy, Mark. It’s time you took responsibility for your own actions.”

Mark involuntarily winces, and Sean smirks. He knows then that they’re not just talking about Facebook, but something Mark has slowly started to realise is far more valuable. He feels himself growing even more angry, both at Sean and himself – for everything that’s happening now, and for everything that happened a decade ago.

“Sean,” Mark snaps. “Get out.”

Sean rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. He seems to think that this is nothing and it’ll all blow over, and Mark will make excuses for him yet again. Mark’s given Sean enough reason to think he can take everything he cares about from him, Eduardo and Facebook, and Mark will still allow him to have a place in his life. But now, he feels ill at the sight of him.

“You were a dick, Mark. I’m not going to apologize for pointing that out.”

“Get out,” Mark says again, curling his fingers tight against his hand. He doesn’t want to fight Sean, or even get revenge on him. He just wants him out of his sight and out of life, like he should have done so years ago. Before he could ruin Mark’s reputation. Before he could convince him that Eduardo was disposable. “I don’t want to see you here. Now, or ever again. Get out.” 

Sean finally seems to register that he’s not fucking around, and he gets out of the chair with narrowed eyes. “You’re being melodramatic because you’re pissed off. I get it, but you’ll get over this. So call me when that happens and you’re ready to have fun again.”

“You’re not a complete moron, Sean. Don’t delude yourself into thinking that’s going to happen. We’re done here,” Mark tells him.

The last traces of humour fade from Sean’s face, and he turns to go. At the last second he pauses and turns back to face Mark, door open and handle tight in his hand. 

“Come on, Mark. You need me. We both know you don’t _ have _anyone else.”

He storms out then, slamming the door behind him, and Mark half expects the glass in it to shatter. It doesn’t, but he can see staff shooting concerned looks at him through the glass doors of his office. 

Mark watches him leave, absorbing his parting words, and thinks of everything that’s about to come his way. Facebook’s about to face the biggest challenges it’s ever had to face, and he’s mad – mad at himself for allowing this to happen, mad at Sean for selling him out, mad at his staff for not doing enough – but he finds he doesn’t care as much as he thought he would.

He let it consume his life, become his main priority, and he’s got nothing to show for it. His hero betrayed him. His two closest friends seem surprised when he bothers to get in touch with them. And Eduardo...Eduardo didn’t speak to him for years, and is getting married. _ Tomorrow. _To someone that isn’t him.

And this hurts more than anything going on with Facebook, makes him yearn for the youth he’d lost. The thought of Eduardo marrying someone else, even after the past few weeks, makes his gut twist, and he knows now what it means. 

Mark closes his eyes, sits at his desk with the glass walls as chaos unfolds outside. He thinks about Facebook as he knows it best, back when it was just thefacebook and existed within his dorm room. Coded by him (with valuable if unprompted technical suggestions by Dustin, and harsh if ultimately true observations from Chris about privacy concerns.)

And funded and supported and co-founded by Eduardo. Eduardo, who loved him and cared about him more than he deserved. Eduardo who introduced himself to Mark at an AEPi party and never left his side from that point on. Eduardo who became his best friend. Eduardo who he kissed and loved and needed, more than he’s ever needed anyone else.

Eduardo who he screwed over. Eduardo who he ignored and hurt and fought with. Eduardo who sued him and then left the state because he couldn’t bear to be around Mark.

Mark was the one who screwed him over, who pushed away his other friends, who dedicated himself to his job but refused to think about the people using it until it was too late. 

He made all those choices. He did all those things. This is his future, the one he brought upon himself, and now he has to live with the consequences. A website with issues he was never prepared for, users and staff that despise him, and the loss of the one person he loved and cared about more than anything.

He hears the sound of his office door and he expects to be yelled at some more, or at least have some of the interns coming into resign.

“Mark?”

He opens his eyes at the sound of Natalie’s voice. She’s standing in the doorway and her eyes are narrowed, but she sounds significantly less pissed off than before. He doesn’t know where his COO or his publicist have gone, and he’s relieved. He knows he deserves their anger but he doesn’t want to deal with it, or them right now. Natalie, at least, rarely raises her voice, and he’s learned to tolerate her somewhat over the last few weeks.

“I’m guessing Sean was the source?” She asks, stepping into the room. It occurs to Mark that she’s the person he’s seen most in his time here, and probably over the last few years, and he knows nothing about her besides her first name.

“Yeah. He’s an asshole.”

Natalie snorts. “You’re not the first or the last person to realise it, though I do wish you’d figured it out sooner.”

Mark nods, because he wishes he had figured it out sooner, too. 

“You’re kind of an asshole as well,” she says, sitting down in the chair Sean vacated moments ago. Mark squints at her, because he can’t really argue with her right now but he’s not sure what point she’s trying to make.

“If you’re here to comfort me, you’re not very good at it,” he informs her, and she rolls her eyes in response.

“Oh, I am absolutely not here to comfort you. I’m here to remind you about the slogan you gave this company.”

If she notices his blank stare she doesn’t let it show, and just plows on.

“Move fast and break things,” she tells him. “I’ve always thought the second part was stupid, because I don’t need to deal with even more stuff you’ve broken due to self righteousness and stupidity.”

“You don’t respect your boss that much,” he comments, but he’s too tired to be rude in response or fight her on it. He’s sure he deserves her dislike, if everything else in this life is an indication.

“You’ve never given me any reason to,” Natalie continues without flinching, “But moving fast? You were right about that. And even though I hate you a lot of the time, your misery just makes things harder for me. So move fast and fix things.” 

Mark wonders if she’s talking about more than the company, even though there’s no way she could know about Eduardo. But he doesn’t care what she’s getting at, because she’s right. He lost Eduardo the first time because he did nothing, let Sean and time and pride break them for over a decade. He needs to move this time. And fast.

“Can you book me a flight to New York?” he asks suddenly, and Natalie stares at him in disbelief.

“I wasn’t suggesting you flee the state,” she says.

“It’s important,” he says, though she doesn’t look convinced. “I’m not going to abandon Facebook. But I need to do something before I can do anything here.”

Natalie takes a deep breath, but either she sees something in him that makes her want to trust him, or she’s just remembering that it’s her job to do as he asks, because she nods.

“Fine. I’ll do it under one condition.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Go home and shower first,” she sniffs, “If you’re going to do more stupid things, you should have at least have clean hair while you do them.”

That makes very little sense to Mark, and he tells her as such, but Natalie shoos him away while she deals with everything. He has to dodge just about everyone in the building while making his escape. He knows he’s being a terrible CEO, but Mark couldn’t care less right now.

He can fix things with Facebook later, but he needs to fix things with Eduardo _ now _.

It’s late and last minute, but Natalie manages to get him a First Class red-eye flight leaving SFO at midnight. She also books a hotel and arranges security to escort him to the airport so he isn’t attacked by the press or angry Facebook users while he’s trying to get around. She only makes one or two snarky comments while doing so, but he thinks he’s earned them this time. She emails him his ticket and hotel details, and in the body of the text is all the information he needs for Eduardo. He thinks he might have hired her for her perception skills. It certainly wasn’t for her personality, as she ends the email with the reminder that he needs to _ deal with shit here too, you fucking asshole. _

Regardless, he finds himself thankful for her, and he decides he’ll try and show his appreciation somehow once he sorts more important things out. At the very least, he’ll learn her last name.

He does as she asks and showers when he gets home, and is in a town car on his way to the airport within an hour of leaving the offices. He manages to get through the airport surprisingly quickly, given the circumstances, and is too focused on what he’s heading towards to deal with the nasty looks and whispers he does receive. He barely sleeps on the flight over, and can’t even write code to distract himself. All he can think about Eduardo, the one he remembers and the one he has now. The one he’s about to lose to another man because of stupid choices he doesn’t remember making.

Mark didn’t think to bring any luggage and Natalie, thankfully, had the sense to arrange another car to collect him from the airport, so he’s on his way within half an hour of stumbling out of the plane. It occurs to him that he doesn’t know when exactly Eduardo intends to pledge his life to someone that isn’t him, and wonders if he should have a backup plan if he needs to break up a newly married couple. But it’s still early enough in the day that he thinks he should be safe, even if he ends up having to interrupt halfway through the ceremony.

Eduardo lives out of the city, in one of the fancier suburbs that make Dobbs Ferry look unimpressive. Mark watches the houses go past through the cab window, and tries to avoid the image of Eduardo having a life here with someone else. The streets don’t fill him with the same rush of excitement the streets of Palo Alto do, and Mark has never wanted to live a life in a suburb similar to the one he grew up in, but he would settle here, if that’s what Eduardo wanted. Retire and get married and raise the 2.5 kids, live the rest of his life with nothing but Eduardo’s love. 

He sees Eduardo’s house before the cab pulls up, eyes drawn to the giant white gazebo in the backyard. There’s a few guests in suits and dresses milling around on the front yard, and Mark hopes that’s a sign, hopes that it means things have yet to start. 

“Are you sure you’re dressed for a party?” The driver asks as they pull up, and Mark looks down at his hoodie and jeans combo. He’s not dressed to attend a wedding, but he’s fine for what he needs to do, so he shoves far too much tip money at the driver instead of responding. 

It’s scarily easy to slip inside undetected, given that Mark’s the only person not in a suit or dress and the only one that’s making headlines for data leaks. But Eduardo’s friends seem too preoccupied with themselves to notice him climbing up the stairs in hopes of finding Eduardo. Even Chris and Dustin, who he has received numerous concerned texts from since the news broke, are too engaged in a conversation with each other and their boyfriends to notice him.

Mark gets to the first landing and looks around, spotting a door that’s cracked upon slightly. He peers through it and manages to catch sight of a familiar figure at the window, and he nudges open the door slightly, just wide enough for him to slip inside. He doesn’t speak until he closes it behind him, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets to try and hide how nervous he feels.

“Wardo?” he asks, and Eduardo turns around, hands dropping from his tie. He looks so beautiful, and Mark has never thought that about any man except Eduardo, but there’s no other word for it. He’s beautiful, and he always has been, and Mark hates himself for not noticing earlier.

“Mark,” he says, giving him a small smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to apologize,” he says, and Eduardo freezes as Mark takes several steps forward. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember doing those things, and although I can understand why I would have thought that doing them was a good idea, I was wrong. I was stupid and selfish and wasn’t thinking, and it cost me so much. Because I wouldn’t want to hurt you. Not the way I did. So. I’m sorry. On behalf of the me that did do those things. And for anything I’ve said recently or back at Harvard that ever hurt you. I was a shitty friend and I didn’t see things I should have seen.” 

He’s talking fast, the way he does when he’s angry or upset, but if he dwells on the words any longer, he knows he’ll never be able to get them out.

“Wardo, I’m trying to change. For a lot of reasons, but mainly because I want to be better for you. I’ve done some reevaluating the last few weeks, and things just aren’t good without you. And I don’t think they have been for years. So I’ll be better. I’ll listen and I’ll support you and I’ll put you first this time. Can we just…please. I really want us to try again.”

He smiles at Eduardo when he’s done, shakily, but he hopes it’s enough that his dimple is showing. Eduardo had always gotten crinkly around the eyes when he showed his dimples.

Not this time. He just looks shocked, eyes wide and lips parted. Mark feels his heart beating in his chest, and he feels nineteen and thirty and one hundred all at once. Eduardo seems to be thinking about what to say, considering the most polite way to deal with everything Mark has told him, when Mark thinks that just kissing him and saying they can try would be enough. He smiles at Mark softly, taking a slow step towards him.

“I’m sorry, too. I don’t think I realised that until that night at the gala, that I was carrying around this resentment not towards you, but myself. Because I messed up too, and I wasn’t there for you, and even after all these years, I didn’t want to admit that I was wrong. It was easier to paint you as this selfish, horrible person than it was to think about how we were both just kids, and we messed up. Until you came back and I couldn’t pretend anymore, and suddenly it was easier to acknowledge that we were young and stupid, and I wasn’t perfect either. So I’m sorry for that summer, and I want to thank you for helping me realise that.” He pauses, shaking his head, and Mark wants, more than anything, for Eduardo to say he wants to try again too.

The room is silent and Mark watches as Eduardo tries to think about what to say next, hoping it’s the declaration of love and desire for a future together that he so desperately needs. But when Eduardo finally speaks, he doesn’t sound excited, or happy. Just sad, apologetic, and a little confused.

“Mark, I won’t lie to you. I’ve felt things these past few weeks that I didn’t know I could feel anymore. A month ago I wouldn’t have thought that I could have forgiven you, could have let you back into my life. And I don’t regret any of that. I don’t regret any part of you, if I’m honest with myself. I’m glad I said hello to you at that AEPi party all those years ago. I’m glad we reached this point. I’m happy to forgive you. But–”

_N_ _ o, _ Mark thinks, _ please don’t say but. _

“–in the past few days, I’ve realised that no matter how much we want to, we can’t just turn back time.”

“Why not?” He asks, even though he’s knows it’s impractical and impossible. But impractical created Facebook, and impossible got him here in the first place, and he’s always been able to count on Eduardo to be there when he needs him. He needs to be able to count on Eduardo now, more than he’s ever needed anything in his life. 

"_Because _ Mark, I can’t keep giving things up for you. That’s all I ever did at Harvard. And I know you’re trying, and that you’ve changed. I can see that, and maybe things would be better now. But I can’t take that risk. I waited for you to apologise and try to fix things for years, waited for you to come back so we could try again. Until I couldn’t do it anymore. Until waiting and hoping hurt too much. So I moved on, because _ you _ moved on. And now we’ve gone down different paths for so long. I chose Jake. We care about each other. That’s his family down there. I can’t just leave him. This might not be the life I dreamed of at twenty-one, but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy with what I have.” 

Mark’s chest has been tightening ever since Eduardo started speaking, and by the time he’s done, he’s surprised he’s still standing. He feels heartbroken and hopeless, and Mark doesn’t know what to do with either of those emotions. Briefly, he wonders if this is how Eduardo felt when he found out his shares had been diluted, and it manages to increase the pain in his heart tenfold. 

He takes a step back, rubbing at his eyes and trying to think of something to say. He doesn’t understand how Eduardo can be so open and wear his heart on his sleeve all the time, because Mark’s done it just this once and it feels like a knife in his chest as a result. He supposes it’s the least he deserves for everything he’s done. 

His pain must be showing on his face, because Eduardo takes a step towards him, looking grief stricken.

“Mark, please…” 

“No. You’re right. This is what you deserve, and I’m happy for you. You deserve to be so, so happy.” 

It’s the most honest thing Mark thinks he’s said in all nineteen (thirty) years of being alive. Eduardo deserves this, deserves to be happy with a man that loves him and says all the right things and avoids hurting other people’s feelings. He doesn’t deserve someone like Mark, who broke his heart and then spent the next decade refusing to fix things because of pride and a need to be right. Eduardo deserves to be loved more than anyone else Mark has ever known, deserves a lifetime of happiness to make up for all the years of pain and heartbreak. 

Eduardo stops in his tracks, staring at Mark in silence, before turning and making his way over to the other side of his room. Mark wants to turn and run now, leave before he says anything to humiliate himself or hurt Eduardo further, but he’s rooted to the spot. He watches as Eduardo rummages through his closet, biting his lip when he seems to find what he’s looking for. He pulls it out, thumbing at the fabric, and Mark feels tears prickle in his eyes when he realises what it is. 

An old North Face jacket. 

“You wore it the day – the day we hit a million members,” he looks down at the garment in his hand, as if after everything, he still can’t part with it. “And after we settled, you sent it back. I haven’t been able to wear it since, but I still kept it with me. I never really knew why. Or at least, I pretended I didn’t.”

“Wardo—”

“Here,” Eduardo says, handing it over. “I always thought it looked better on you anyway.”

Mark takes it from him, stares down at it in his hands. He knows now that this is Eduardo’s way of saying goodbye, that he’s shutting the door on everything they had and could have had. There’s nothing he can say that will fix them, but Mark still feels like he has to say something before he leaves for good. He thinks of what he wants to say, and what he’s come to believe his thirty year old self was still too scared to say. What he should have said long ago, before everything got so messed up. Before _ he _ messed everything up. 

“I love you, Wardo. You’re my best friend.”

Eduardo smiles, but won’t look him in the eye. 

“Mark, I…I’ve always loved you,” he says, and it’s everything Mark never knew he wanted to hear, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Eduardo isn’t choosing him. 

Mark nods once, stiffly, knowing he’d cry if he tried to say anything else to him right now. He hasn’t cried since he was a kid, and he isn’t going to let it happen now. Not in front of Eduardo, who’d feel guilty and regretful. Mark’s already caused him enough pain. 

He slips through the door and leaves, North Face clutched in his hand as manages to get out of the house as undetected as before. He walks down the street, away from the house, away from the wedding, away from Eduardo and the life that should have been theirs. Would have been theirs, if Mark hadn’t been so selfish and ignorant. He walks until he’s no longer taking great gasping breaths and calls a cab, then stares down at the black fleece in his hands the entire drive.

He manages to make it back to the hotel Natalie booked for him, and sits on the bed, eyes still burning. He pulls the North Face around him, burying his head in it in the crook of his shoulder. He can make out a glint in the jacket, little flecks of silver he can only see up close. Mark desperately wants to go back to the night he last wore it, the very first day of thefacebook when Eduardo still looked at him in wonder. He doesn’t want to be here anymore, doesn’t want to live with all the mistakes he’s made.

Facebook will be fine, he feels that deep in his bones. There’s over a billion members, and he can’t imagine all of them quitting over the data breach. There will be damage and they’ll have to try to control it, but it’ll live. It’ll be a constant in his life for as long as he wants it to be, and even though Mark is still so proud of what it’s become, he can recognise that it’s become his life.

But he doesn’t want it to be anymore. He doesn’t want it, not at the cost of Eduardo. He knows that now, has finally figured it out, a decade too late. He wishes he could try again, keep Eduardo this time. Keep him running his fingers through Mark’s curls when they were drunk enough to excuse it, keep the way Eduardo would smile at him whenever he called him _ Wardo, _keep the love and loyalty that Mark never deserved but Eduardo happily gave anyway.

He falls onto his back and closes his eyes, wanting nothing more than to be nineteen years old again with the world, but more importantly, Eduardo, at his fingertips.

When he opens his eyes again, both his head and his heart feel heavy, and Mark wants to curl up and avoid the world for as long as possible. He blinks a few times, taking in the room around him as he wonders if Natalie would kill him if he never went outside again, and if it would even matter that she did. Just spent the rest of his days here in this small room with peeling wallpaper. 

A room that isn’t quite right, Mark realises, because the wallpaper is peeling and it’s far too dark and small to be the hotel one, or even any of the rooms in his house. It’s cramped and messy, with weak sunlight coming through the blinds, though Mark had been sure the hotel had curtains. He sits up, slowly, taking in his surroundings because it looks just like— 

His bedroom at the Kirkland suite. 

He stumbles out of his bed, unsure if this is real. His computers are still on his desk, surrounded by empty Red Bull cans. The whiteboard with all his notes is propped up against the wall between his room and Chris & Dustin’s. The sweatpants he was wearing a week ago and hadn’t bothered to clean are at the foot of his bead. Everything was just as he remembered it.

“Shit.”

He throws open the door to his room, almost tripping over his feet in his rush to get out. He needs more evidence, needs to know for sure that he’s back where he’s meant to be.

Chris is in the living room, pulling on his coat, because Chris is the kind of person that can get drunk the night before and still show up at his 9am class perfectly healthy and presentable. 

He looks up when he sees Mark, who can’t help glancing around the suite, expecting it to disappear at any moment. It’s been a month since he was here, and he’d begun to think that he’d never get back – that he’d be forever stuck in the future he doesn’t remember having. It’s a testament to how messed up the experience was that he feels comforted by the empty beer bottles and XBox controllers strewn around. 

He must look as confused as he feels, because instead of his usual greeting, Chris just asks “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Fuck off,” Mark tells him, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to see him. “It’s February 2004, right?” 

Chris blinks at him. “Yes. Jesus Christ, how much did you drink last night?” 

Mark ignores that, because if he’s back – back where he’s meant to be, back to a time and place he can actually remembers, back to before everything got so screwed up – that means Eduardo is still around, still in his life.

“Where’s Wardo?” He asks, and Chris snorts, picking up his bag, concern instantly abandoned. 

“His room at Eliot, I imagine. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he doesn’t actually live here.”

Mark rolls his eyes, but the reminder that Eduardo is still a constant presence in his life at this point, constantly in his dorm room and badgering him to eat & sleep, not living on the opposite side of the country and trying his hardest to hate Mark, means more than he’ll ever say.

“Can I go to class, or are you going to ask me your last name and what school we’re attending?” Chris asks drily. “Because it’s Zuckerberg and Har—”

“I’m fine,” Mark interrupts. “It’s just a hangover.”

Chris stares at him for a few more seconds, but ultimately seems satisfied. He goes to leave, and Mark thinks about the Chris who stayed his friend even when he didn’t deserve it, the one who made sure he didn’t destroy his own company in the earlier years (something his _ new _PR Guy couldn’t manage). Before he can stop himself, he hears himself calling out his name.

“Chris?”

Chris glances back over his shoulder, hand on the doorknob and eyebrow raised. Mark almost tells him off or pretends he didn’t say anything, but the weight of his future is still heavy on his shoulders. He doesn’t want to risk losing his friends again. 

“Thank you.”

Chris stares at him in silence for a moment, and looks as if he’s debating taking Mark to a doctor or making fun of him for his sudden show of gratitude. 

“thefacebook’s launch has got you acting like a freak,” Chris mutters instead, opening the door to the suite. “And while I’m sure the sudden kindness is coming from a good place, it’s awfully concerning.”

He closes the door behind him, and Mark smiles despite himself. He’s back.

He turns back to his room and puts on his flip flops, and runs out the door wearing the same sweatpants from yesterday and Eduardo’s jacket. He runs through the Harvard Yard as best he can despite the fact he’s wearing flip flops in the snow, and ignores people looking at him in confusion and the one or two that yell at his name, probably to congratulate him on thefacebook. He doesn’t care about any of them, or even the site right now, because he has something that’s more important to him. He needs to guarantee one thing before he does anything else.

Mark can count on one hand the amount of times he’s been to Eliot. There was never really a need to, when their suite at Kirkland was bigger and Eduardo would show up regardless if they invited him anyway, inserting himself into Mark’s life as if it was the easiest thing in the world. And now that Mark knows how much he needs that presence in his life, he doesn’t want to wait for Eduardo to show up tonight. He doesn’t want to waste another minute. 

So he runs up the stairs of Eliot house and bangs on Eduardo’s door while he tries to catch his breath.

Eduardo opens the door, looking young and happy and about as carefree as he ever gets. His smile seems to widen when he sees Mark there, standing in his jacket, and Mark can’t help but think back to the thirty-two year old Eduardo that slammed a door in his face. 

“Mark, hey,’ he says, and he sounds so happy to see him, as if Mark showing up at his dorm has made his whole day. Mark doesn’t know how he missed this, before: Eduardo’s bright smile reserved only for him, his soft voice, the look of adoration in his eyes. He thinks about himself at thirty, who didn’t see any of this when he had the chance and ended up losing Eduardo because of it. He doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to wake up in a decade’s time having made those mistakes. He’s been there and lived through it, and he knows how miserable it is.

So he does the only rational thing.

Mark reaches up and kisses Eduardo, clutching Eduardo’s shirt in his hands as he lets out a gasp of surprise before kissing him back. He feels Eduardo’s hand on the back of his head, soft against his curls, and he can’t help but smile against his mouth. They stand like that for what feels like forever, kissing in the doorway of Eduardo’s room at Eliot, and Mark immediately wants to pull Eduardo back when they finally break apart, not wanting to lose him ever again. 

“_ Mark,” _Eduardo breathes, and nobody’s ever said his name like that, like the one syllable contained all the beauty and wonder in the world. Nobody except Eduardo, Eduardo who thought he was incredible and beautiful even when nobody else knew who he was, Eduardo who gave Mark his time and his money and his friendship, Eduardo who loved him even when he didn’t deserve it.

And Mark wants to deserve it, wants to be worthy of Eduardo’s love and affections. He doesn’t want to be thirty years old and losing him to someone else. He wants Facebook to succeed but only if it’s with Eduardo by his side. He wants to be the person Eduardo comes home to, whether it be in sunny Palo Alto or a house in the suburbs or a freezing suite at Harvard. He wants to have dinner with Eduardo every night and have him run his hands through his curls. He wants to kiss Eduardo and hold him and see his bright, beaming smile. Nothing, no website or praise or money is worth losing all of that.

He knows that now. This time, Mark’s choosing him.

**Author's Note:**

> to the peachcule, for being as crazy and as stupid as me. love you all deeply and my tsn viewing experiences would not be the same without you, and facebot would not exist. for that, i owe you the world.  
and for elizabeth, for being my wonderful beta and other half. thank you for your help with this, and for everything you have ever done and ever will do. love you always.  
my tumblr is whenharrymetsally89 if you ever want to say hi.  
thank you for reading. and happy nine years.  
love,  
xx ladystark


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